Hardly Evil at All

I bet if you took all the evil people in the world and laid them end to end (but not in any dirty kind of way), you would be surprised to find that not one of them was Me.

Sunday, March 31, 2013

One man's trash is another person's come-up! This is fleeping AWESOME!

Your comment about the seersucker suitage made me realize what a remarkable, positive trend is currently sweeping our great nation.

Isn't it refreshing to see people of all faiths uniting by embracing that hit Mackelmore song?
Now, more than ever, we can drive away from church, temple, synagogue, tabernacle, teepee, or Shriner's gathering, blasting Thrift Shop on our stereos with the tops off and the windows down, and feel pious despite the cuss words (or "smudged over" PROBABLE cuss words, depending on if it's a radio station edit versus mp3 or CD) in the song itself.
Today, while exiting worship services ALL OVER, people who have never interacted with one other, in any way, are beginning to open up and "dialogue" because of this uplifting song!
It's a beautiful sight to behold, and to listen to (unless listen is included in the definition of the word behold- but I didn't bring my dictionary or Bible in the bath with me this time.  Do you KNOW how long it takes to dry out books that size??  I wish I didn't.)

Scene 1  Two young people exit, and notice each other for the first time.

Person #1:  Hey, isn't that my Grandpa's coat?
Person #2:  Maybe.  Which thrift store does your Grandma donate his clothes to when she gets sick of them?
Person #1:  The Goodwill on Soufth Second Main Street Boulevard by the railroad tracks.
Person #2:  You think you could ask her to let YOU know next time she's gonna donate, and then you can offer to take them FOR her, as a FAVOR (wink wink), and let me have a run at them first? 
Person #1:  That's an awesome idea!  (A) It saves Grandma some hassle.  (B)  By bypassing the Goodwill, you get the stuff for even cheaper.  (C)  And I get a little pocket to buy Meth!  I mean, to buy MORE BIBLES, not Meth!  (Stoopid auto correct)

Scene 2  Exchange names and cell phone #s and both Person #1 and Person #2 will be in fantastic moods until they get home and find out their respective Grandpas ate ALL the Easter eggs AND cookies while everybody else was gone.

Scene #3  Grandpa's hearing aids and teeth mysteriously appear on Ebay.

Friday, March 22, 2013

Holy Talk Radio, Y'all!

WARNING:  This post contains references to personal feminine health and hygiene, vaguely disguised offensive language, as well as possibly technical blasphemy.

WARNING:  Reading this post may be hazardous to your opinions about me.  However, I believe it all needed to be said.
I further decree that only people who can PROVE they NEVER watch movies or read books with "cuss" words be permitted to judge me!
My good friend, Ex-Smokey the Bear, proofread this post for me and advised me to advise the Judgment Crew to form an orderly, single file line in order to make it easier for the firefighters to put out all the pants ablaze before they can cause any permanent damage.  To your butts, not the pants.  As far as Ex-Smokey and I know, there's no saving polyester pants once they catch fire.
You should also bring some Bactine, be aware of the location of your nearest burn center, and be prepared to sleep standing up for a while.

WARNING:  Yet another post where the WARNINGS are longer than the actual post.  Maybe I should just stop with the warnings.


I'm on the air?  Now?  K.
Hi, God!
Long time fan, first time caller.
I've been on hold a while, I'm driving, and my cell phone battery is jusssst about to die on me, so, if it's alright with you, I'll just make a quick statement, ask my question, and then hang up and listen to your answer on the radio.
Periods, God. What.the.(bleep). The only way out of them is 1. Pregnancy, 2. Dangerous medications, 3. Anorexia, 4. Surgery, or 5. Menopause?
Seriously?  We live in an era where organ transplantation is not only possible, but successful more often than not, and yet, even though I'm not evil at all, I gotta cramp like I'm passing a mutha-fuhgotten KIDNEY STONE for three days before, and then wash blood stains outta clothes and sometimes sheets, every TWENTY-EIGHT DAYS?
I'll hang up and listen to your response now. I enjoy your show! Have a GREAT Spring Break and Easter!

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Equality House *Will Love Conquer Hate? *

I think pasting this into your browser will take you to the report I saw on fb.


There was a comment about PAYBACK, nothing hateful or vulgar, just people fed up with a particular church's very public expressions of hatred.  My reply was (as usual) much too long to post on Facebook.  But, y'know how some things just get under your skin and you just gotta TELL Somebody, even if it's your completely empty blog in the middle of the night, but you can't sleep until you have your say, however small it may be?  Me, too!

*So, the following is my reply, for anyone who reads fast and/or has some time on their hands.*

It's not PAYBACK.  It's humanity's peaceful response to Hate.  One side of that street knows a "secret" that the other side doesn't know.  You fight Ignorance with Education, Hate by demonstrating Love, and Intolerance with Beano!  (Sorry, I couldn't help that!). 

I myself suffer from an EXTREME case of Intolerance of individuals and groups that practice and teach Hatred.  Somehow, it makes it so much worse that they think they are hiding behind God's robes. 

Listen up, Haters:  EVERYBODY sees you.  You are parading about in your emperor's new clothes, and ALL your naughty bits (Hate, Sins, Lies, Bigotry, Evil thoughts,etc.) are on display for the rest of the Whole World to see. 

If I may be so bold as to speak on behalf of the rest of the Whole World for a minute, we don't like you.  We don't hate you, but we've had enough of your nonsense, and we want you to go on home now! 

Stop by the store on your way home and lay in enough supplies for a few years, in other words, until you die or a cure is found for the contagious disease of hatred that you have spread like Typhoid Mary amongst your flock.

You're gonna need a generator (and a tanker full of diesel or gasoline, depending on what kind of generator you decide on) to power your underground bomb shelter.  Bring all your weapons and ammo in, not just your guns.

Bring plenty of MREs, Vienna sausages, and dog food.  And cookies, which you should hide from the others.  Try to not ever be the fattest one there (don't eat them cookies- I know you'll be tempted!), because everybody knows when the other food runs out, people start sizing each other up, and the fattest is the first one that makes an empty freezer full again. 

If you accidentally ARE the fattest, and they start looking at you funny, offer them some cookies, always indicating that it's your very last package of cookies (it isn't!). 

While they are distracted by the cookies, make your escape, Fatty!  You shoulda already had an escape plan in place.  If you didn't plan that far ahead, you are obviously not the brightest speed bump and probably deserve to be eaten.  Might as well finish off the cookies by yourself at that point.  As they say, you can't take 'em with you.  You will require a LOT of A1 steak sauce, so hopefully that's an item they stocked up on.

You know what?  On second thought, just try harder to Love Thy Neighbors, ALL of them, not just the ones who give you an AMEN when you ask for it on Sunday.

From what I can recall about the Biblical God I was brought up learning about, y'all are LUCKY HE don't strike people down with lightening, or send you some sorely deserved plagues.

Oh, wait, maybe he did send plagues, but they backfired.  Ignorance, Hate, and Bigotry are waaaaay worse than frogs or head lice.  Haha, made your head start itching, didn't we?

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

The Dismembered Skeleton in the Attic and the (possibly) Serial Killer Monkey

So, I go up in the attic, just taking a look around. Never been up there before. Still plenty I haven't gone through to know what we were able to save and what we lost from all the moves. I don't happen to like rickety ladders. I believe most crime could be prevented if criminals were somehow forced to ascend rickety ladders to get to it. Came across a box of ASSORTED, as you do when you're on an attic expedition. I immediately recognized the skeletal hand sticking up , and smiled, grabbed the familiar bony hand and pulled out... the rest of the arm, but none of his other parts. Vaguely confused, but think that bony arm might make a good emergency back-up back scratcher. Then I found the cutest little plastic monkey (I don't like REAL monkeys) that was clearly intended to DO something. Opened the battery compartment in its back. There weren't any batteries in there, so of course it wouldn't do whatever it was supposed to do. But the compartment wasn't empty, NoSirrieBob! Instead of batteries, there were four tiny dismembered plastic fingertips, that had all been GNAWED OFF, by Someone or Something. I'm not saying that a toy monkey without batteries is capable of such carnage, but he did seem to go out of his way to hide the evidence.

Sunday, March 17, 2013

Going to bed; goodnight, Facebook (late entry)

Just wanna let everybody know that I'm going to bed, and I thought I should apologize for not updating y'all yesterday, so I'm gonna do it now.
Well now, let's see...

EVERY SINGLE THING THAT I THOUGHT, FELT, ATE OR DRANK, OR DID TODAY, as expressed via facebook status updates, had I been responsible and posted AS the day happened.

The FIRST thing I thought of when I woke up this morning was:  Coffee! I MAY have specified which specific Starbucks item I was craving, but since I'm updating late, I can't be sure.

Then, I was all: effing TRAFFIC.

Oh, yeah, PARADES!  Guess I'll be late to work.  Thanks a LOT, Saint Patrick!

Sooooo hungry.  Only thing I had today was that giant muffin.  WHY doesn't Taco Bell deliver?

Effin traffic again!

To all the fat, stupid idiots in line at McDonald's:  PUT DOWN that Super-Sized Heart Attack Combo, and walk, run, or drive to the nearest gym!  You're welcome.
(My turn, FINALLY!) Yes, I'd like the Triple Bypass Heart Attack Combo with the SUPER-Super-Sized McPaddy Green Shake, to go.  And, um, throw in one of them McSalads, because I am VERY health conscious (and I don't have ANY vegetables at home, but there's no reason THEY need to know that).

Yummy!  You can really taste the green!

Effin traffic!!  NOW I got green milk shake all over my favorite white work pants!  I'm snapping a picture of your license plate, Buddy.  Everybody knows the car in front is supposed to gun it through the yellow light, allowing ONE MORE car (in this case-MINE) through the intersection!  When you slam on your breaks, you cause a chain reaction of slammers on breaks, ending in messy chaos!  You can expect a dry cleaning bill or a summons to appear in front of Judge Judy, if she still has a TV show.

My emergency backup pants are snug.  I never knew sweat pants could SHRINK.  Must be due to the extreme humidity in the Soufth.  (Note to self: replace all emergency clothing items with very roomy, very stretchy fabrics that can withstand the humidity.)

Why does Work Time pass so sloooowly, while Real Time flies like a double oh seven jet?

I hate my job.  It's so boring, I sometimes fall asleep right in the middle of board meetings.  That actually happened a few minutes ago.  It's okay, though, because I found a doctor who filled out both Americans with Disabilities Act AND FMLA papers to cover my "Narcolepsy" disorder AND my Tourette's syndrome!  I know, right?  Best doctor EVER!  No, you can't have the name or number.

None of my so-called friends are playing Words with Friends today.  On to the online Poker tables.  Mama's feeling lucky!

Browsing through the profiles of all the losers listed on Match.com.  Realize that I'M the BEST catch on the entire site.  Thinking of switching over to e-harmony.

Lol!  Hilarious cat pictures and videos!  Oh, yeah, brace yourself Facebook, because it's SHARE time!  Because there's no such thing as "too much" when it comes to cats on Facebook!

The intellectual in me is hankering for a chance to appreciate legitimate literature, so I head on over to the Second City Network YouTube channel for modern-day takes on Shakespeare's classics.  That's right.  The Sassy Gay Friend videos are waaaay more insightful, and much less tragic, than Old William's plays.  They're funny AND they make you think!  Dash off quick, professional email to the State Department of Education suggesting the substitution.  Pros: relevancy, interestingness, brevity, drastically lower drop-out and suicide rates among people and teens who watch The Sassy Gay Friend instead of reading W. Shakespeare.

Whoa.  I think I just singlehandedly solved America's  education crisis, AND maybe even saved some lives.  This is deep.  Wonder which flavor of instant frozen daiquiri best accompanies the sweeeeet taste of brilliance, success, and those teensy little Reese's peanut butter cups that come unwrapped in the little bags.  Mini fridge under my desk empty except for strawberry, so strawberry it is. 

In a sudden fit of self-confident, domestic nostalgia, I head over to Pinterest for ideas for dinner.  There's just too much.  HOW DO PEOPLE MAKE THEIR FOOD LOOK SO PRETTY ON CAMERA??  Are they the David Copperfield of Cuisine?  Because I'm more like the David Blaine of city sidewalk cookery, in that I could probably pull dinner out of my sleeve or my shoe, but nobody is gonna want to TASTE my sleeve or shoe food, not even me!
I'm overwhelmed and sobbing openly now, and there's empty "Capri Sun" packets all over the office, and strawberry daiquiri in the cracks of my keyboard.  I'm a human being, Internet!  I deserve better than this!  I cancel my Pinterest account, and feel better immediately.  I never knew how to pronounce the word anyway.  I go all Phil McGraw and take charge of my dinner and my life by deciding to go with a Hot Pocket and a bag salad.  Will post a picture of my dinner on Instagram, like I did with my Green Shake earlier, because I know how much my friends like to see proof that I'm eating and not wasting away.

Come ON, five o'clock!

It's five-thirty.  I have either gotta learn how to read a non-digital clock, or find somebody who knows how to set my cell phone alarm for me.

Yay!  On my way home for a relaxing evening (Futurama & a lot more Capri Suns!) in a hot bath.

Checking in at the grocery (a.k.a. liquor) store for "dinner" ingredients.

Drive to The Secret Crack House, as part of my Neighborhood Watch and humanitarian volunteer duties.

(six hours later)
Took a taxi home because I couldn't find my keys.  Sometimes the "bouncer" at The Secret Crack House holds onto your keys until you can prove you are not under the influence of anything other than regular peer pressure.  He's like the Mount Everett of bouncers.  He is un-defeated.
Couldn't remember where I hide my hide-a-key, so I curled up on the porch swing and went to sleep until the bright midday sun woke me up.
Oh, yeah, my extra house key is in the secret key rock, which I have been hiding under my welcome mat (and tripping over!) for the last 8 years.

Stumble inside, in search of a shower and COFFEE, not necessarily in that order.

Then, I lather, rinse, repeat, nap, and update my fb status accordingly, pretty much word for word, every day of my life.

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

The Prequel to Not in My Neighborhood, in texts (beginning FRIDAY Night)

ME: You can shower and then I'll get my bath & whoever can will pick up Whodunit (from late field trip). Be keerful. I came really close to getting hit hard on my side earlier when I was by myself. Was scary.

HIM:  Sounds good.
Whodunit and I almost got creamed the other day.

ME:  I Love and I hate that we have so much non-material treasures to lose.

(Flash forward to Saturday afternoon)

ME:  Going in now to see Stripes. Love you. (have to leave phone in car)

HIM:  I Love You!

(a few hours later that same day)
ME:  Leaving now. I love you.

HIM:  Ok. Please be careful.

(later that same day again)(because I don't text while I drive)
ME:  I am. Train was blocking road, finally it's moving. I was looking for alternate routes. TGFGPS!

(a few minutes later that same day AGAIN)
ME:  Oh my God, it's slowing DOWN AGAIN. effing trains

(a little later, again, nothing to wash down my Rapid Release Tylenol and caffeine pill for a mild headache rapidly threatening to become a migraine)
ME:  I coulda BUILT a Wendy's to make my own damn frosty & fries by now.

(a little later again, again)
ME:  Ok, it's TWO TRAINS. Guess they forgot to throw the switch or check the schedule again.

HIM:  You're so funny
(note: I was NOT laughing. Or joking, and did not reply.)

(a good deal later that same day, from driveway)
ME:  Home
(see, short and sweet, because of being hungry, thirsty, headachey, and glad to be home)

HIM:  Yay. I'm bout to leave (work-he misses me when we're apart, apparently)

(following the altercation with the old lady while checking the mailbox)
ME:  You might wanna move the garbage can to where the neighborhood Nazi prefers it.

HIM:  What're you talking about?

ME: (silence) (because I was gonna tell him all about it when he got home in a few minutes!)

Followed by an unnecessary phone call to explain when all I wanted to do was take my RRT & caffeine pill and eat my cinnamon toast because I hadn't eaten since morning and I kept having to push it back down in the toaster so it would be warm enough to spread without needing to microwave it. Especially because the microwave had sustained a controlled burn involving a leftover Olive Garden breadstick while I was away.
And I DID finally end up microwaving my toast.  (It turned out fine.)

Saturday, March 9, 2013

NOT in MY Neighborhood!

Open Letter to Our Much-Beloved Landlords:
Oh, my!  Upon returning home late this very afternoon, I was accosted by the self-appointed Neighborhood Conformity Madam y'all used to talk about.  Sorry, but I ain't renewing any lease unless she moves first.
P.S.  I had TOTALLY FORGOTTEN about the Bad Element.
P.P.S.  I COMPLETELY understand why y'all moved.

I wonder just who she thought she was approaching, as I checked my own mailbox and minded my own business.
Did y'all know there's no law that requires regular crazy people to disclose the extent of their mental (ahem) eccentricities, quirks, etc. to their neighbors?  I don't think SHE knows that, YET, but I do believe she will soon think twice before slowing down the SUV for a brief "word" with someone who can CLEARLY see that she lives in the house at the end of the dead-end street.  I believe it's a safe bet that she's not the brightest speed bump in the county.

When I was informed I was being negligent with my garbage can placement, I immediately turned to look at the curb, assuming it just hadn't been brought back from the street yet today.  No, it was in its usual spot, as per the accompanying photo I took after she drove off.

Apparently, SOME people think a city-issued garbage can in FRONT of the garage rather than three feet to the SIDE of the SAME garage (and EQUALLY visible from the street) detracts from the appearance of the entire neighborhood, and justifies a verbal reprimand from one total stranger to another.  This is not the kind of neighborhood with a Homeowner's Association, complete with dues, bylaws, block parties, or an official Neighborhood Watch Program.  Yet.

There are times when I find myself (I know some will claim this may be the biggest lie I've told today) ... speechless.  This was one of those times.

I watched the "Boss of the Street" drive away, to her own plain little cookie-cutter house, four houses down on the other side of the street.  Hers is the last house on this dead-end street.  I've never seen any traffic TO or FROM her house.  Apparently, it is HER PERSONAL mission that all the cans in the neighborhood be placed in a manner that is pleasing to HER when she drives past.  (WHY the VERYVERYBADWORD does she even need to LOOK at my garage in the first place?!)

I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt.  Maybe she's all about Feng Shui, but is ashamed of it.  Don't be so embarrassed about Feng Shui that you act like a #(!@,  people!
I watched her park IN her short DRIVEWAY, even though she has an enclosed GARAGE.  I'm fairly sure this practice is going to appear quite high up on the list of what all ELSE is prohibited and mandated in the Unofficial Neighborhood Association Guidelines brochure she'll receive a copy of sometime next week.

Johnny, is that all she's won with her busybody-bossiness?
Johnny:  Why, no, Skip, not at all.
I'm quite certain I saw a large ad in the bargain hunter's Penny Pincher publication next week:
FOR SELL by Owner. Stop by for FULL TOUR of House at Any Time, Day or Night!
FREE COOKIES and/or FREE KITTENS with every Tour!  (Address listed, but phone # inadvertently left off.)  The ad ends with the statement: We Must Be Crazy!  Once in a lifetime chance!  No background checks or credit checks.  Free Zero-Interest rate Owner Financing!  Leaving for a long tour with the Peace Corps in one month, and must SELL Now!  Selling our house for the crazy low price of only $2,000!!
Skip:  I bet they come by in DROVES, Johnny, if only to see and cuddle a whole bunch of free kittens while traipsing all over the $2,000 Dream House, late at night, or whenever their shift ends at The Secret Crack House. 
Johnny:  Don't forget the COOKIES, Skip!
Skip:  Cookies, Johnny?
Johnny: FREE Dinner, Skip.  Sometimes, Everybody WINS!

I'm sorry, Madam, but you brought this on yourself.
If my garbage can isn't where YOU WANT IT, you need to come move it.  I ain't ABOUT to do it for you, and nobody else at this house is willing to obey you as if you were the Queen, the Law, or Me.  I already asked them all.  They don't like you, and I don't blame them one bit.

To paraphrase what Somebody Famous once said:  In the morning WE'LL (probably) BE SOBER, but you're still gonna be RUDE.  And OLD.  And our garbage CAN is gonna be EXACTLY where it was when you suggested I move it.

I considered draping something over the can whose appearance is offensive, but I don't seem to have a large tarp handy.  Wrapping it up like a giant present with wrapping paper and bows would make it more attractive until it gets wet or the wind picks up.  We also thought about bringing the Christmas tree out and placing it in front of the offensive can, but we couldn't decide whether to plug in the lights or not.  I may just put a gigantic flowery skirt on it, or paint the outside to blend in with the bricks of the house.  At any rate, our can will soon be SO attractive that beautifying, and subsequently DISPLAYING prominently, your garbage can will be one of the most strongly "suggested" mandates in our Unofficial Neighborhood Guidelines.

*I'm posting an additional picture taken minutes later, of something less attractive, and much more highly visible (though weeks old, and "healing" now): muddy tire tracks on the lawn, right by the street, where I've backed down the drive and "missed."  More than once.  This is actually very embarrassingly unattractive, and strongly suggests that someone living here frequently drives while impaired (I don't, I just can't see the edges of the drive well because I'm short). 

** I also instructed the other occupants of this house to line the street-facing windows (including the front door panels) with energy efficient aluminum foil!  Pretty AND Practical!  Just like all the big, ugly (only YOU will know they're fake) I Can't Believe They're Not Solar Panels™ we're gonna go ahead and install while she's at Evil Sunday School tomorrow.

Friday, March 8, 2013

Please Support Cheetos Deformity Awareness

Twisted together forever in Cheetos purgatory, this pair of conjoined Cheetos just breaks my heart. They never even had a chance. They didn't live, but they didn't get to be eaten, either, because nobody wants to eat misshapen Cheetos!

It's too late for them. But it's not too late to make a difference to future Cheetos.. Please support Cheetos Deformity Awareness by liking them on Facebook, re-posting, and by purchasing Cheesy Orange Ribbons from us.

Because Once You've Been Made Aware of a Problem, You are Responsible for Becoming Part of the Solution.

Seriously, just buy some Cheesy Orange Ribbons, and you can sleep with a clean conscience, knowing you've done your part.

*You know it's the right thing to do. *What if reincarnation is REAL, and next time around YOU are a conjoined Cheetos?