Monthly Archives: October 2012


Now that the bitch, Sandy, has left the East Coast (for the most part), it’s time to dig in and re-build.  God Bless all my friends in that area and I pray you are all warm, safe, and dry.

One thing you can’t keep down is an American, and the folks in Jersey, New York, and all along the Coast are some of the toughest Americans in the country….and this is coming from a Texan…notoriously tough and gritty folks, we feel a special kinship to y’all. 

So, anyway, to Halloween.  My family loves Halloween. No,’s almost an unhealthy obsession we have.   So, tonight the oldest daughter’s garage will be converted to a haunted house the kids will have to brave to get candy.

But anyone knows that kids will not be kept from candy, no matter the peril.

It should be entertaining.  I won’t be there, though.   I spent all day yesterday sick as a dog from the stomach virus my grandchildren all had last week, and today I’m still feverish and achy.   As soon as I get off work I’m going home to crash, and hubby will hand out the candy at our house.

Enjoy your Halloween, kids and don’t be afraid of the dark!

Shit’s About to Get Real…

…this may be a little late for those of you currently being blasted by the Snowacowindrainsurgeholyshitballs storm we call “Sandy”, but in the future I want to help you plan for the inevitable.

At least, in the food department.

To that end, I bring you a virtually indestructible, lasts forever, meat in a can.

It’s good to know tha you can get canned unicorn these days.  I mean as busy as we all are, who has time to grab bow and arrow and hit the ‘Shire for some authentic ‘corn?

I hear it’s good on toast, too.

You’re welcome, and those of you in Sandy’s path…DUCK!! safe and warm out there, kids.


From the Department of Updating Updates to Updates

Here’s a few updates on recent shit important stuff I’ve posted.

Apparently, good-guy Sam isn’t such a good guy after all.  He NEVER responded to my e-mail.  This means no money for Rock and I to take a trip.  When I told Rock he just sat there, stoney-faced, not saying a word.  In fact, he hasn’t moved since. I’m a little worried about him.   Thank you, Sam.  Thank you sooooooooo much.

And, while we are at it, my genu-wine Fuh-bee guy, Juke, hasn’t returned any of my e-mails. Not a one…at least I don’t think he has. I was a guest of the county for a brief time and didn’t have any Internet access, so if he sent them then….. 

The poor dude with two first names, Eric….sigh….I probably came on too strong and scared him off.  He was a skittish colt, already, and I’ll bet all my talk of Empire State Building and Valentine’s Day just sent him over the edge.  Note to self: next time, maybe start with a coffee. 

On a happier note, my baby girl is out of the boot for short periods of time now.  She’s trying – probably too hard – to rehab her foot/ankle on the fast track.  Patience is not one of this girl’s virtues.   The important thing is it’s getting better on its own.  Too bad I can’t get back the years she shaved off my life when I heard her screaming and crying over the phone.   Yeah, there’s no ‘fast track’ rehab for that.

So, there you have it…direct from the official Department of Redundancy’s Department – Update Division.

PSA – Because I Care

You all know how much I love each and every one (all 3) of my devoted followers.

And, because I love all of you, like truly, I think when I stumble across useful information I should pass it along.

I don’t get paid to do product reviews, nor do I generally even bother with them.

This time, though, I thought that you should be aware of a truly amazing product available from Amazon.

Read the reviews, first, or this whole post will be a gigantic waste of time – oh, right…that’s what all my posts are.

Never mind, just enjoy yourselves.

And, you’re welcome.

These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things


All kinds of words.

Big, flowery, no-one-knows-what-they-mean-anymore words.

Small, succinct, take-your-breath-away words.

All words.

I love them.

I take them with me everywhere I go – to the park, to the store, in my car as I drive around this massive Metroplex.

Some words taste good, others are bitter, and some make me physically ill.

But, good, bad, big, small, sweet or bitter I love them all.

I don’t have a favorite, that wouldn’t be right.  I do, however, have some I detest.  I find it particularly satisfying when I can substitute a word I don’t like for something less offensive.  It makes me feel as though I’ve expanded the word universe – albeit in a very small way.

I’m currently trying to take my big basket of words and form them into sentences, paragraphs, chapters to explain the last few years I spent with Daddy.

Most of these words are so powerful they prevent my getting past them.  Often, this impedes progress, but these words will not be ignored. 

They will not be glossed over.  They will be dealt with.  They will be reckoned with.

And they will not be happy until I have paid them their due.

It is a painful, heartbreaking, process.

I’m just glad that the words, sometimes my friends, sometimes my enemies, are always my companions.

Because Some Things Are Timeless

I bring you another installment in my favorite waste of time on the Internet.

“Letters of Note” culls the most amazing correspondence, some funny, some sad, all poignant in one way or another, from all over.

I could get lost for hours, marveling at what once was and is so little any more – the art of letters.

In this instance, I also marvel at the never-changing world we live in and remember that some things are tragic and timeless.

Gray Hair Tale #1,287

::phone ringing::

Me:  Hello

Baby Girl (BG):  MOM! MOM!! *click*

I quickly dial back, the phone goes to voicemail.


Don’t panic, don’t panic.

::phone ringing::

Me: Baby girl?

BG: MOM!! I fell, with the baby…*garbled, garbled*

Me: Is she hurt?

BG: *screaming/crying/hysterical*MOM!!!

Me: Dammit…calm down a second, BG!! IS. SHE. HURT???

BG: No, she’s fine *screaming again, crying* I broke my fucking ankle!!!

Don’t panic, don’t panic, baby girl is home alone with her two babies and I’m over an hour away.

Me: Did you get a hold of your hubby?

BG: I called *screaming again* no…*sobbing*…answer

Me: Okay, let me see what I can do.  Where are you?  Where are the girls?

BG: *sobbing, hysterical*On the floor, in the hallway. I was getting out of the truck with baby in my arms and somehow I rolled over on my ankle and fell.  I landed on my elbow and baby’s head was like an inch from the floor…OH. GOD.THE. PAIN!!!

Me: Alright, I’m going to try to find someone close by (her sister, brother, and sister-in-law are all within 20 minutes of her) you keep calling hubby.

::five minutes pass, I can’t get anyone and my phone rings::

Me: Baby girl? Did you get a hold of hubby?


Shit, shit, shit…okay, think Mom…

Me: *looking at my boss who can hear BG screaming/crying on phone and looks genuinely alarmed* I’m on my way, you keep calling hubby. *boss nods and I grab my stuff and run out the door*

I called my hubby on the way to BG’s house.

Hubby: Hello?

Me: Hey, BG thinks she’s broken her ankle.  She’s lying on the floor at her house and we can’t get a hold of anyone.  I’m on my way out there now, but I’m like an hour away.  *I look down at my reads ‘80’…I try not to think about that*

Hubby: What the fuck happened?

Me:  I don’t really know, she’s hysterical.  From what I gather, she fell getting out of the truck with the baby and somehow rolled her ankle in the process.

Hubby: Sonofa……

Me: I know, right?  Can you call her?

Hubby: Me? Why?

Me: Because YOU are her Daddy, and you are always able to calm her down.

Hubby: Okay, but you keep me informed.

Me: Thank you, honey.  I will.

I hang up the phone and for the next few minutes concentrate on driving like a madwoman through the Dallas traffic.

::phone rings – it’s BG’s husband::

Me: Where are you?

BG Hubby: I’m on my way home, be there in 15 minutes or so.

Me: Okay, I’m on my way there, too.  I’ll watch the girls while you take BG to the hospital.

BG Hubby: Okay.

I hang up again and go back to NASCAR on the freeway.

::phone rings – it’s my daughter-in-law::

Me: Hello

D-I-L: Hey, what’s going on?  Everyone’s phone is blowing up.

I relay the events and ask d-i-l if she can come out to the house to watch the girls after she gets off work – she lives very close by.  I can’t stay too late as I have to work the next day and we don’t know how long BG may be at the hospital.

D-I-L: Sure, no problem.  I’ll see you around 6:00.

Me: Thank you!

I’m almost to BG’s house now and realize that a one-hour trip has taken me less than 40 minutes.  I don’t even….sigh…thank you, God.

I walk in to find BG and her hubby in the bedroom.  BG is on the floor, her ankle is roughly twice its normal size, but it looks to me to be more of a strain/sprain than break.

We carry her to the car and a couple of hours later she texts me the good news – no break, BUT severe strain to ligaments, possibly a tear but time will tell if she needs surgery.  For now, it’s a boot, crutches, ice, and heavy-duty ibuprofen.

And that, dear readers, was how I spent my Monday….getting gray hair # 1,287.

What did you do?

UPDATED**If You’re Not Into Cats…

…then maybe just skip this post.

If you are owned by a cat, or room with a cat, or marvel at the mysteries of the cat, then settle down because it’s………..


Starring, none other than Bugsy, the Insane or as I’ve taken to calling him lately, Bugsy, the Inflatable because damned if he doesn’t look like someone shoved an air hose up his…nether region…and then turned it on and walked away.

He’s old, he’s diabetic, he’s lazy, and he’s fat.

I have him on a $28/bag diet food made for old, diabetic, fat, lazy cats.

The bag’s instructions stipulate that only *this* much is to be given to the cat daily.

*This* much roughly translates to thimbleful if you are Bugsy.

It’s actually closer to capful, if you are Bugsy’s roommate and slave…a/k/a me.

So, months go by and Bugsy dutifully bitches about the amount of food he’s given.  He follows me around, after I’ve filled his bowl, often loudly protesting the lack of volume in the food bowl. Other times, he follows me around actively attempting to trip me with his paws by grabbing at my ankles.

If he ever develops opposable thumbs I fear for my life.

He hasn’t lost an ounce, and then one day I figured out why.

My bathroom rugs have developed a bald spot.

Granted, they are old but I didn’t think they’d lose their covering here…and here..oh, and here. Mostly on the edges.

I discovered the reason for the loss recently as I passed by the bathroom door and noticed the cat hunkered down over the corner of one of my rugs.

Bugsy is eating the bathroom rugs.  He diligently and carefully works on one strand at a time, pulling it out and eating it.

Insanity, thy name is ‘Bugsy’.

I closed the bathroom door, after shooing him out amidst loud protestations.  Since that day, no more rug damage and I have noticed a general increase in Bugsy’s grumpiness – if such a thing is possible.

It all came to a head Sunday when out of his morning food’s rations – roughly 30 seconds after I put it in the bowl – he came into the front room where I was sitting on the couch, reading, and proceeded to repeatedly place his front paws on the couch, leaving the back ones on the floor for leverage no doubt, and smack me on the legs, hands, arms, whatever he could reach. 

He never used the claws, but he just kept coming back and coming back.

A pretty-good writer once said that Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, but I submit it’s only because he hadn’t met my hungry cat yet.

And, since the Bard is well-dead, I’d like to revise that quote a little to read “Hell hath no fury like a pissed off cat named Bugsy”.

I’m sure Sir William would approve.

UPDATED – Dateline – 2 seconds ago….

From the Spam Comments, comes the comment of the day for this post:

“Fantastic beat !”

Thank you, lucille, for that spot-on commentary.

Back to you, Bob.

Well, Now This is Just Sad….

Poor Mr. Peter Eric.

Not only does he have the unfortunate circumstances of having two first names, instead of a proper first name – either Peter or Eric will do – and a proper last name – I’m gonna go with Jablonski, because it’s memorable – but apparently, my lack of communication makes him think I don’t trust him.

Nothing could be further from the truth, as evidenced in my reply (below his e-mail).




I know it is because of your past experience that make you not to believe me but I told you before that I cannot deceive you because my bible says what shall it profit a man to gain material things and loose your soul, what another assurance do you need before you will send the required fee of $45 for us to renew your payment fill from your Benin High Court ON YOUR BEHALF, i have assured you a time without number that this is genuine and legitimate, this is your payment details to pick up your first payment.


I swear and am here to swear again that nothing will stop to start receiving your daily payment after this $45, if i fail to start sending you your daily payment of $5,000.00 within 2hours after you send the $45 as i promise you i cannot fail you, don’t fear as soon as you send the $45 today leave the rest to me and see if i am lie to you or not because i can not use my life swear because of $45, how can i swear against my life because of this FUND, but is to show you that what am telling you is truth, so please try to understand me by sending this $45 is big amount but is too small for the amount you have to receive within 48hours.


Here is the information to use send the money so that we will complete the matter once and for all.$45 only no more payment i swear i will start sending you your total fund of $900,000.00 at the rent of

$5,000.00 per day immediately i receive payment, am here by giving you 100% Assurance that you will receive your fund and you can start picking it.


Here is the information to make the payment of $45 through western union money transfer or money Gram below:










I guarantee you as soon as we hear from you with the payment of $45.

today we shall send your pick up information within 2hours.





PHONE +229-98469993   





Dear Mr. Peter…erm…Eric…erm Jablonski (work with me here, I have trust issues..obviously);

 I am so sorry that I’ve somehow conveyed a lack of faith in you. 

 Nothing could be further from the truth.

 Why, I believe that in your capacity as a Foreign Manager of Operation you are quite capable and conscientious.

 Swearing again and again to deliver my $5,000 per day shows me just how dedicated to this cause you are, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t touched by your devotion.

 Unfortunately, I cannot send you the $45 in the mail or by wire.  I have trust issues with the postal service and Western Union.  I once sent another Foreign Manager $50 for $4,000 per day and I’ve never heard back from him.

 I’m positive Western Union kept that money and the Manager gave up on me.  Now, someone else is probably getting *my* $4,000 per day.

 So, you see why I don’t want to risk it again? 

 The only solution I can come up with is a tried and true American method for guaranteeing we can get together on this.

 Meet me at the top of the Empire State Building – that’s in New York City, in case you didn’t know – at 7:00 p.m. on February 14th, 2013.  That’s Valentine’s Day…a very romantic holiday, and I think our little arrangement may be the beginning of a beautiful relationship and, well, I can’t think of a more appropriate setting than one that re-enacts scenes from two of my favorite movies of all time – “An Affair to Remember” and “Sleepless in Seattle”.

 Anyway, please meet me on Valentine’s Day.  I’ll be the one wearing red.


Joan Fontaine

And Then I Did A Victory Dance….

It was an epic battle.


It lasted five minutes, but as any veteran of battle can tell you five minutes can seem like a lifetime when your adrenalin is pumping and you feel you are in real danger.

And, I was totally unprepared.

I mean, I was at work for cryin’ out loud!

At. Work.

Oh sure you hear about workplace violence all the time, but you never think you’ll be involved.

And then one day you are.

I’m proud to say I came out of the battle relatively unscathed.

Aside from the emotional scars.

Those…sigh…those will take longer to heal.

I cannot say the same for the wasp that decided to first land in my hair as I got in the car, and then transferred to the back dash flopping its body against the rear glass in a vain attempt to escape my ice scraper as I frantically attempted to either kill it or remove it from my car.

In the battle of wasp vs. awesomesauciness, the wasp was the clear loser.

I need a drink.

And I don’t drink.