I learned at a very early age that if you behave badly, God will get you. This has always been something that I live by. Today I like to refer to it as, God will get ya if your ugly. Not ugly in a physical way, but in a spiritual way.
I went to my Aunt Jan's house one day to see if Kim could come outside and play and since they lived just a couple houses away, I was allowed to make the trip by myself. Aunt Jan never locked the back door to her house. It was always open, as was the practice of most people back in the early 70's. Either there wasn't as much crime then or we were all just stupid.
Upon entering her house and calling out for Kim, I realized that nobody was home. I made my way into the living room and there on the coffee table was a bowl of candy. Brach's caramels have always been one of my favorites so I decided I needed two of them, even at this age I had an issue with odd numbers. I knew as I put them in my pocket that it was wrong but I couldn't resist the sweet temptations that were in the white milk glass bowl.
I ran out of the back door and back to my house. Waves of guilt were flooding over my body with each step that I took. I was going to end up in jail for sure. I had to do something. I couldn't let my Mom know that I had just stolen two pieces of candy. I was in a panic by the time I got back to the house. I had to dispose of the evidence, but at the same time I wanted to eat this candy more than anything I had ever wanted in my life. Even more than I had wanted the Magic 8 ball for my birthday that year.
I finally decided that I could have the candy and Mom would never know that I had committed a crime. So I hatched a very clever scheme. I hid the two caramels under a bush in front of our house and then went inside. I acted like nothing was going on when Mom asked where Kim was. I told her that Aunt Jan wasn't home and that I was going to go outside and play. This was step one of my plan, once outside I would "find" the caramels under the bush and then the sweet treats would finally be mine!
I went to the bushes and found my candy once again and carried them into the house proudly saying how lucky I was to find such a rare thing in our own yard. My Mother on the other hand freaked out and took them from me. "No way are you eating candy you found in the yard," after all, she reasoned, it could have been left there by a serial killer!
I had no choice but to confess that I had stolen the candy, hid it, and lied about it. I still wanted those caramels. Mom was horrified at the level of deception that her baby boy had developed. She waited until Aunt Jan got home and marched me over there with my candy in my hand. I had to give it back and apologize to Aunt Jan for stealing her candy and not asking for it.
That Sunday in church the sermon and lesson was about the 10 Commandments. They focused on the eighth one that week. God had seen what I had done.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Cuts like a knife
I have never been great at sports, this is common knowledge. I am however very good at throwing fits. I have gotten a lot calmer over the years but throwing an object during an argument used to be my biggest flaw.
There was the time I got mad at a boyfriend when he said the dinner I cooked wasn't that good. I threw a 2 liter pepsi at him. he did have enough sense to duck but it hit the stereo and busted it all to hell. That was the last time he came over for dinner now that I think about it.
There was also the time that Robby thought it would be funny to scare me. He waited on the steps and jumped out at me. I had a glass of tea in my hand and as I screamed, I threw the tea up the stairs at him. It took some time to clean that off the walls and steps.
I don't always have to be mad at another person to have a spasm. After screaming and cursing for several minutes one night while trying to fry potatoes, Robby quietly asked why it was such a big deal?
This sent me over the edge. How could he not care or understand the potato trauma? I was trying to peel and slice some more so I could start over. I got so angry I threw the knife across the kitchen. It hit the edge of the sink and came sailing back towards me. I stood in horror as I looked down and saw the knife sticking straight up in the air as it landed into my big toe.
This was my last throw.
There was the time I got mad at a boyfriend when he said the dinner I cooked wasn't that good. I threw a 2 liter pepsi at him. he did have enough sense to duck but it hit the stereo and busted it all to hell. That was the last time he came over for dinner now that I think about it.
There was also the time that Robby thought it would be funny to scare me. He waited on the steps and jumped out at me. I had a glass of tea in my hand and as I screamed, I threw the tea up the stairs at him. It took some time to clean that off the walls and steps.
I don't always have to be mad at another person to have a spasm. After screaming and cursing for several minutes one night while trying to fry potatoes, Robby quietly asked why it was such a big deal?
This sent me over the edge. How could he not care or understand the potato trauma? I was trying to peel and slice some more so I could start over. I got so angry I threw the knife across the kitchen. It hit the edge of the sink and came sailing back towards me. I stood in horror as I looked down and saw the knife sticking straight up in the air as it landed into my big toe.
This was my last throw.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Winter, Spring and the Fall of Driving.
Spring is almost here and I am so excited that I can't hardly stand it. I believe with my whole heart that I should be allowed to stay at home from October 1 through May 1 and not have to look at anyone else in the world. I should have been a Bear when I was born. I hate everything about the winter season. I am not even a fan of the holidays that come along with the cold weather.
Driving in bad weather will not happen for me. It is a fact, use it as you wish. Ask anyone close to me and they will tell you that I will not be on the road behind the wheel of a vehicle if there is snow or ice on the road. It is hard enough for me to drive when the weather is good just because of the idiots on the road.
To the following people: Please stop doing this, you are giving me anger management issues.
Mr. Ride my ass because I am not going fast enough. I realized that you over slept and that you are in a hurry. Or, maybe you are just a dick who thinks he has to be the first one to cross the city limit sign.
Mrs. I'm too busy to drive, she is always on the phone, doing her hair and makeup in the mirror and swerving all over the road. Here is a tip lady, get a driver.
Mr. I'm too old to be on the road. You go 45 mph no matter what the speed limit is. When you do finally get out of your car to go in somewhere, I understand your pain. Your pants are pulled up so high that is has separated the boys.
Mr. Truck driver, please don't try to push me out of the way or take more than your lane just because you are driving a beast. I get it, I will move.
Finally, to Mr. Nose picker. 65 mph clearing the nasal passages. No further explanation needed.
Now that Spring is just around the corner I will have more smiles on my face than usual. Warm weather will of course give me more to blog about as people love to humiliate themselves in the warmer air for some reason. This is also a fact as you can see at any local Walmart in the July.
Driving in bad weather will not happen for me. It is a fact, use it as you wish. Ask anyone close to me and they will tell you that I will not be on the road behind the wheel of a vehicle if there is snow or ice on the road. It is hard enough for me to drive when the weather is good just because of the idiots on the road.
To the following people: Please stop doing this, you are giving me anger management issues.
Mr. Ride my ass because I am not going fast enough. I realized that you over slept and that you are in a hurry. Or, maybe you are just a dick who thinks he has to be the first one to cross the city limit sign.
Mrs. I'm too busy to drive, she is always on the phone, doing her hair and makeup in the mirror and swerving all over the road. Here is a tip lady, get a driver.
Mr. I'm too old to be on the road. You go 45 mph no matter what the speed limit is. When you do finally get out of your car to go in somewhere, I understand your pain. Your pants are pulled up so high that is has separated the boys.
Mr. Truck driver, please don't try to push me out of the way or take more than your lane just because you are driving a beast. I get it, I will move.
Finally, to Mr. Nose picker. 65 mph clearing the nasal passages. No further explanation needed.
Now that Spring is just around the corner I will have more smiles on my face than usual. Warm weather will of course give me more to blog about as people love to humiliate themselves in the warmer air for some reason. This is also a fact as you can see at any local Walmart in the July.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
My First Hooker
In 2004 Robby and I decided that we wanted to take a trip somewhere that we had never been and since Robby won't get on a plane it had to be a destination that we could drive. After many online searches and discussions we settle on the city of New Orleans.
I wanted to see the French Quarter and the swamps. I had seen so much on television about this city being like it's own world that I had to go. After some planning we set out on our way to the Big Easy. I felt just like Suzanne Sugarbaker, I was gonna have a hurricane and some hair of the dog the next morning to combat the hangover.
Down I-55 we began our journey. It seemed logical to take this route because it was a straight shot all the way there. Dull does not even begin to describe this trip. Mississippi is the longest freaking state you could drive down the center of. The only thing to look at on the journey were the Pine trees. Oh and the Pine trees.
Once we crossed into the state of Louisiana, it was in fact as if we had entered another country. Especially once we turned onto I-10. The bridges were so long it was amazing. Swamp as far as the eye could see, and peppered throughout were the shacks that people actually live in.
We made it to our Hotel room, I was too excited to do anything except visit the French Quarter, so we went for a walk. The first place we hit was Bourbon Street, I was after a Hurricane and some craw fish. This was my goal for the evening. My goal for the evening was not to get so wasted that I tried to get a homeless man to polish my sneakers for $1.00. Robby had to drag me away from him and into a restaurant to get some food with the hope of getting me somewhat sober enough to walk back to room.
Everything was going fine at the table until I spotted a prostitute with a scorpion tattoo on her breast. I couldn't help but stare in my haze and she must have mistaken my fascination with passion. She began to show me more and more cleavage while I sat at the table on the balcony waiting for my craw fish. I however was trying to focus on the tattoo not the breast. I couldn't take it anymore. I had to get a better look so I took off from the table and crossed the street.
She was all smiles as I approached, to her, she thought business was picking up. To me, I was on a mission to talk to a hooker. As I approached she asked me what I was looking for, I froze. Panic washed over me like never before. Before I could even think I just blurted out..."I love your boobs and tattoo."
"I'm sure you do honey, you wanna better look?" she replied. Then it finally hit me, what she was after and what I wanted couldn't be any more different under any circumstance. I explained to her that I was with my boyfriend having dinner and apologized for wasting her time. I then noticed that she was drinking something that was green and I asked her what it was. She informed me it was called Kick Ass Gator. I had no choice but to make things right. I paid her $10.00 for the remainder of her drink and returned to my dinner.
I wanted to see the French Quarter and the swamps. I had seen so much on television about this city being like it's own world that I had to go. After some planning we set out on our way to the Big Easy. I felt just like Suzanne Sugarbaker, I was gonna have a hurricane and some hair of the dog the next morning to combat the hangover.
Down I-55 we began our journey. It seemed logical to take this route because it was a straight shot all the way there. Dull does not even begin to describe this trip. Mississippi is the longest freaking state you could drive down the center of. The only thing to look at on the journey were the Pine trees. Oh and the Pine trees.
Once we crossed into the state of Louisiana, it was in fact as if we had entered another country. Especially once we turned onto I-10. The bridges were so long it was amazing. Swamp as far as the eye could see, and peppered throughout were the shacks that people actually live in.
We made it to our Hotel room, I was too excited to do anything except visit the French Quarter, so we went for a walk. The first place we hit was Bourbon Street, I was after a Hurricane and some craw fish. This was my goal for the evening. My goal for the evening was not to get so wasted that I tried to get a homeless man to polish my sneakers for $1.00. Robby had to drag me away from him and into a restaurant to get some food with the hope of getting me somewhat sober enough to walk back to room.
Everything was going fine at the table until I spotted a prostitute with a scorpion tattoo on her breast. I couldn't help but stare in my haze and she must have mistaken my fascination with passion. She began to show me more and more cleavage while I sat at the table on the balcony waiting for my craw fish. I however was trying to focus on the tattoo not the breast. I couldn't take it anymore. I had to get a better look so I took off from the table and crossed the street.
She was all smiles as I approached, to her, she thought business was picking up. To me, I was on a mission to talk to a hooker. As I approached she asked me what I was looking for, I froze. Panic washed over me like never before. Before I could even think I just blurted out..."I love your boobs and tattoo."
"I'm sure you do honey, you wanna better look?" she replied. Then it finally hit me, what she was after and what I wanted couldn't be any more different under any circumstance. I explained to her that I was with my boyfriend having dinner and apologized for wasting her time. I then noticed that she was drinking something that was green and I asked her what it was. She informed me it was called Kick Ass Gator. I had no choice but to make things right. I paid her $10.00 for the remainder of her drink and returned to my dinner.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Horned Toads and Bar-B-Q chips
When I was in the 4th grade my sister and decided that we couldn't live without a Horned Toad for a pet. My Dad, bless his soul, worked for Backer's Potato Chips in Fulton and he drove a truck for them. On one of his routes he managed to find us a toad and brought it home for us. Spike was a beautiful toad, he had a home in an aquarium and it was filled with sand. His diet consisted of crickets and other insects.
I was not going to catch these bugs to feed Spike so Mom was the one who was outside catching bugs each morning. I just couldn't stand the thought of killing one thing to feed another. This way of thinking also carried over in life to the point that my Dad never had a hunting buddy with his son.
As with most pets, Spike eventually died. I am not sure what killed the little toad but there were tears and a funeral. My sister and I found the perfect place to lay him to rest. We even placed little yellow dandelions on his grave. We never even considered that his grave was at the end of the drain spout from the roof, until it rained that night and we found Spike washed out of his final resting place the next morning.
Once again, we had a funeral for Spike, and once again we buried him. Unfortunately, we put him back where he was and it continued to rain. Spike had to be buried several times before we finally understood that he couldn't rest next to the drain.
Once the pain of losing Spike passed I decided I wanted Bar B Q rippled chips. Backers didn't make them so Dad decided to run a batch of rippled chips and put the flavoring on them for me. That was the biggest bag of chips I had ever seen!
To this day I don't understand how or why my Dad did everything he did for us. I guess that is why he will always be my hero. I miss him terribly and this blog is dedicated to him.
I was not going to catch these bugs to feed Spike so Mom was the one who was outside catching bugs each morning. I just couldn't stand the thought of killing one thing to feed another. This way of thinking also carried over in life to the point that my Dad never had a hunting buddy with his son.
As with most pets, Spike eventually died. I am not sure what killed the little toad but there were tears and a funeral. My sister and I found the perfect place to lay him to rest. We even placed little yellow dandelions on his grave. We never even considered that his grave was at the end of the drain spout from the roof, until it rained that night and we found Spike washed out of his final resting place the next morning.
Once again, we had a funeral for Spike, and once again we buried him. Unfortunately, we put him back where he was and it continued to rain. Spike had to be buried several times before we finally understood that he couldn't rest next to the drain.
Once the pain of losing Spike passed I decided I wanted Bar B Q rippled chips. Backers didn't make them so Dad decided to run a batch of rippled chips and put the flavoring on them for me. That was the biggest bag of chips I had ever seen!
To this day I don't understand how or why my Dad did everything he did for us. I guess that is why he will always be my hero. I miss him terribly and this blog is dedicated to him.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Wonder Boy
Television has always been a huge part of my life as far back as I can remember. When I was a young boy I was completely obsessed with Gilligan's Island. I couldn't function without watching it. Mom and Dad would often try to trick me if there was someplace they needed to go and it was on. We didn't know what a VCR or DVR was back then because they had not yet been invented. We also only had three channels and the remote was typically myself or my sister.
When it was time for the family to leave I would sit there in front of the TV and try my hardest to stall so I could see if Gilligan would in fact get off the island that week. Mom or Dad tried their hardest to convince me that if they just turned the TV off, Gilligan would be on when we got back and I wouldn't have missed anything. This worked a couple of times before I caught on.
Another show that sucked the life out of me was Wonder Woman. I don't know why, but I wanted to be her and part of me still does. The fact that she got to run around in a bathing suit, fly an invisible plane, and had a golden lasso of truth was more than my mind could comprehend. I had to have this life and would do whatever it took to become Diana.
My cousin, Kim and I would often play superhero and we would both be Wonder Woman. It never even crossed my mind to be Super Man, or Spider Man or any of the other males who were saving the world from evil. The two of us would play Wonder Woman for hours on end outside. Fighting crime and saving the country from the Nazi's.
We decided finally that we needed at least some of the items that Wonder Woman used in order help rid the country of evil, so we slipped inside the house to get a few items that would assist in our endeavor.
The first thing we needed was a golden lasso of truth, Mom's gold yarn was perfect for this. Then we needed the wrist bands that would deflect bullets. What to use for this? It wasn't as if Mom had a supply of bracelets, so we improvised and decided that Styrofoam cups that had the end cut out and a slit up the side would make the perfect band. The only problem, they weren't silver!
A trip to the kitchen provided the answer we so desperately seeking. In the cupboard was a new box of Reynold's Wrap. The fact that we now had silver bracelets to deflect the onslaught of bullets that we were facing outside go the creative juices flowing. We knew very well that a red star should be on each bracelet. We were positive that this was one of the main sources of power for Wonder Woman so we had to find something.
Finally a trip into Mom's bedroom revealed the perfect shade of red nail polish that would definitely give us the desired effect. Once the ensemble was complete we were ready to fight crime and save the country, or at least the neighborhood for the villains of the world. All we had to do now was spin in a circle and we were ready to go.
Mom on the other hand was constantly buying aluminum foil, Styrofoam cups, gold yarn and nail polish. She couldn't understand why these items were constantly needing replenished.
When it was time for the family to leave I would sit there in front of the TV and try my hardest to stall so I could see if Gilligan would in fact get off the island that week. Mom or Dad tried their hardest to convince me that if they just turned the TV off, Gilligan would be on when we got back and I wouldn't have missed anything. This worked a couple of times before I caught on.
Another show that sucked the life out of me was Wonder Woman. I don't know why, but I wanted to be her and part of me still does. The fact that she got to run around in a bathing suit, fly an invisible plane, and had a golden lasso of truth was more than my mind could comprehend. I had to have this life and would do whatever it took to become Diana.
My cousin, Kim and I would often play superhero and we would both be Wonder Woman. It never even crossed my mind to be Super Man, or Spider Man or any of the other males who were saving the world from evil. The two of us would play Wonder Woman for hours on end outside. Fighting crime and saving the country from the Nazi's.
We decided finally that we needed at least some of the items that Wonder Woman used in order help rid the country of evil, so we slipped inside the house to get a few items that would assist in our endeavor.
The first thing we needed was a golden lasso of truth, Mom's gold yarn was perfect for this. Then we needed the wrist bands that would deflect bullets. What to use for this? It wasn't as if Mom had a supply of bracelets, so we improvised and decided that Styrofoam cups that had the end cut out and a slit up the side would make the perfect band. The only problem, they weren't silver!
A trip to the kitchen provided the answer we so desperately seeking. In the cupboard was a new box of Reynold's Wrap. The fact that we now had silver bracelets to deflect the onslaught of bullets that we were facing outside go the creative juices flowing. We knew very well that a red star should be on each bracelet. We were positive that this was one of the main sources of power for Wonder Woman so we had to find something.
Finally a trip into Mom's bedroom revealed the perfect shade of red nail polish that would definitely give us the desired effect. Once the ensemble was complete we were ready to fight crime and save the country, or at least the neighborhood for the villains of the world. All we had to do now was spin in a circle and we were ready to go.
Mom on the other hand was constantly buying aluminum foil, Styrofoam cups, gold yarn and nail polish. She couldn't understand why these items were constantly needing replenished.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Tis the Season
It's that time of year again everyone, time for the garage and yard sales. As I have written in a previous blog, I grew up with a grandma who loved these events. To her, a bargain was a bargain and I myself will find it necessary going to these events to see if there is anything that I absolutely could not live without.
I have had a few yard sales before in my life. It is definitely a great way to get rid of clutter and other odds and ends in your house that you are just sick of looking at. A few extra bucks in your pocket is always a bonus for what could be considered trash to yourself and treasure to others.
It occurs to me that a yard sale for fun would be a great source of entertainment. I would love to have one just for laughs without the possibility of making any cash. I have thought this out and have decided there are several items that would be absolutely hilarious to put a sticker on. Here are my top 5 items that would be fun to have for sale at my next event.
#1 A used litter pan, without cleaning it up. just stick it out there with a sign on it that says "works great".
#2 How about a half eaten sandwich for $.25?
#3 The thought of having a sign up that says make me an offer on my child gives me great pleasure. Especially if the child is currently on a sugar high and running around like a chicken with it's head cut off.
#4 Used underwear would be a definite treat to get a reaction from people.
And last but not least, my #5 item that I would love to get peoples reaction on is... A vibrator. Imagine the looks on people faces when they start picking through the quarter box to run across one of the items with a sticker on it that says, "works great" or "like new".
The possibility of comedy and shock value of this is beyond belief and you just never know when I may do something like this.
I have had a few yard sales before in my life. It is definitely a great way to get rid of clutter and other odds and ends in your house that you are just sick of looking at. A few extra bucks in your pocket is always a bonus for what could be considered trash to yourself and treasure to others.
It occurs to me that a yard sale for fun would be a great source of entertainment. I would love to have one just for laughs without the possibility of making any cash. I have thought this out and have decided there are several items that would be absolutely hilarious to put a sticker on. Here are my top 5 items that would be fun to have for sale at my next event.
#1 A used litter pan, without cleaning it up. just stick it out there with a sign on it that says "works great".
#2 How about a half eaten sandwich for $.25?
#3 The thought of having a sign up that says make me an offer on my child gives me great pleasure. Especially if the child is currently on a sugar high and running around like a chicken with it's head cut off.
#4 Used underwear would be a definite treat to get a reaction from people.
And last but not least, my #5 item that I would love to get peoples reaction on is... A vibrator. Imagine the looks on people faces when they start picking through the quarter box to run across one of the items with a sticker on it that says, "works great" or "like new".
The possibility of comedy and shock value of this is beyond belief and you just never know when I may do something like this.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Life's a Dance
I love music of all kinds. One look at my iPod and you will see that is has everything from Patsy Cline to Lady Gaga on it. I also love to sing. I am not good at it, but I love to do it.
The solution to this problem is this; put the earphones in as tight as you can get them so you can't hear yourself. If you are in the car, volume up. Once I have it at a level that I can no longer hear my own voice I am ready to go. This gives me the green light to sing as loud as I can with all the grunts, growls, pops, and sighs that go along with each song. In these moments I am Brittany, Madonna, Hank Sr., Elvis, or whomever I have streaming at the moment.
Some of the best times to sing and bust a move is while you are home alone cleaning the house. The only audience I have is my dogs, so I love to dance with them and sing directly into their face while they try to run and hide under the throw pillows. The fact that my voice can send them into a frenzy is so much amusement that I will often send Robby to the store just so I can have a few minutes of fun.
On one particular day, not so very long ago, I was at my best in the kitchen. I had Brittany going full blast on the ipod. She had "did it again" and so had I. Every single time she sang "Oh Baby, baby, how was I supposed to know" I had the same growl coming out of my mouth that I believed she did. I just knew that I was the next member of the Mickey Mouse Club that was yet to be discovered.
With my trusty dance partner, Mr. Swiffer Wet Jet, I was on fire. I was getting the floor clean while doing moves that nobody had ever seen before. In my heart I knew that it was time to take this show on the road. This was my chance to expose the world to what would later be known as the Curtis Effect.
I was not aware that Mom had entered the apartment and was a captive audience of one until I hit the hight note while singing into the handle. I knew at this moment that I was cashing in on the phrase, "I will love you no matter what."
Thanks Mom.
The solution to this problem is this; put the earphones in as tight as you can get them so you can't hear yourself. If you are in the car, volume up. Once I have it at a level that I can no longer hear my own voice I am ready to go. This gives me the green light to sing as loud as I can with all the grunts, growls, pops, and sighs that go along with each song. In these moments I am Brittany, Madonna, Hank Sr., Elvis, or whomever I have streaming at the moment.
Some of the best times to sing and bust a move is while you are home alone cleaning the house. The only audience I have is my dogs, so I love to dance with them and sing directly into their face while they try to run and hide under the throw pillows. The fact that my voice can send them into a frenzy is so much amusement that I will often send Robby to the store just so I can have a few minutes of fun.
On one particular day, not so very long ago, I was at my best in the kitchen. I had Brittany going full blast on the ipod. She had "did it again" and so had I. Every single time she sang "Oh Baby, baby, how was I supposed to know" I had the same growl coming out of my mouth that I believed she did. I just knew that I was the next member of the Mickey Mouse Club that was yet to be discovered.
With my trusty dance partner, Mr. Swiffer Wet Jet, I was on fire. I was getting the floor clean while doing moves that nobody had ever seen before. In my heart I knew that it was time to take this show on the road. This was my chance to expose the world to what would later be known as the Curtis Effect.
I was not aware that Mom had entered the apartment and was a captive audience of one until I hit the hight note while singing into the handle. I knew at this moment that I was cashing in on the phrase, "I will love you no matter what."
Thanks Mom.
Monday, March 14, 2011
May I please use the restroom?
When I think back over the stunts I have pulled in my past, several stick out in my mind that were absolutely humiliating. I never seem to shock anyone other than myself with some of my actions. I have a tendency to say or do just about anything with no regard to my personal safety or humiliation.
There was a time several years ago that I was visiting the University of Missouri Hospital. While walking down a long quiet hall I noticed several young doctors buzzing in and out of rooms. They all seemed to impress me with their scrubs and clean cut looks. The thought occurred to me that it would be nice to possibly marry a doctor some day.
Upon ducking into a bathroom with a friend of mine. I made a comment over the stall that I wouldn't mind a "casual encounter" with a young doctor, one that would be so amazing that he would instantly fall head over heals for me and we would live happily ever after. I was the ultimate gay fairy tale where we could live in a fancy home and I could decorate and garden each day along side Martha Stewart.
I wondered if my off the cuff remark had fallen flat on deaf ears or if I had finally gone too far with my sick twisted sense of humor. I had not heard a single comment from my friend after all. There I was giving him some of my best material while going to the bathroom and I was getting no feedback.
Once I had finished my business I opened the door to my stall and realized that my friend was no longer in the room with me. In his place was a very attractive red faced young intern who was wearing scrubs. He seemed very nervous that I had finished before him and that I was now standing less than a foot from him.
I quickly washed my hands and bolted from the restroom. Once outside I saw my very good friend doubled over with laughter. He had in fact heard my remarks in the restroom but chose not to respond since the young intern had followed us inside without my knowledge.
I chose to not have lunch in the cafeteria that day.
There was a time several years ago that I was visiting the University of Missouri Hospital. While walking down a long quiet hall I noticed several young doctors buzzing in and out of rooms. They all seemed to impress me with their scrubs and clean cut looks. The thought occurred to me that it would be nice to possibly marry a doctor some day.
Upon ducking into a bathroom with a friend of mine. I made a comment over the stall that I wouldn't mind a "casual encounter" with a young doctor, one that would be so amazing that he would instantly fall head over heals for me and we would live happily ever after. I was the ultimate gay fairy tale where we could live in a fancy home and I could decorate and garden each day along side Martha Stewart.
I wondered if my off the cuff remark had fallen flat on deaf ears or if I had finally gone too far with my sick twisted sense of humor. I had not heard a single comment from my friend after all. There I was giving him some of my best material while going to the bathroom and I was getting no feedback.
Once I had finished my business I opened the door to my stall and realized that my friend was no longer in the room with me. In his place was a very attractive red faced young intern who was wearing scrubs. He seemed very nervous that I had finished before him and that I was now standing less than a foot from him.
I quickly washed my hands and bolted from the restroom. Once outside I saw my very good friend doubled over with laughter. He had in fact heard my remarks in the restroom but chose not to respond since the young intern had followed us inside without my knowledge.
I chose to not have lunch in the cafeteria that day.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Friends Forever
Having a best friend, or as the younger generation calls it now, a bestie, is the greatest gift anyone can have. To have more than one is exceptional. I have several friends in my life that I can call a best friend. In the end there all different degrees though.
For instance, Sheila would be considered my best friend. The very best. She knows where I keep the box of stuff that needs to be destroyed should I become incapacitated so my Mom don't find it. She will be the one to come to the hospital with tweezers should I be in a coma, and she knows when the statute of limitations is up on some of my less than stellar moments in life.
A call to her at 3 am is never out of the question. Even if it is a call to tell her the latest joke I heard or to ask if she knows where I put my toenail clippers.
Diane is the friend that will always send me coffee. She is the one that has a very deep connection to me and my family. She may live in Ohio, but I don't hold that against her. It gives me a place to go for vacation. The only draw back to Diane is that she can't tell me how something smells or taste since she fell down a flight of steps. Her family is my family extended.
She took me to see Carrie Underwood in concert and let me stand there for 45 minutes in a trance without saying a word. She understands my obsession with music, Carrie and Crystal Bowersox. Some day we will get to meet Crystal in Toledo and I am sure Diane will be the one to thank for this.
JW, where do I start? This is the kid I grew up with. Both of us from small towns with family ties and roots in abundance. When we were very young I remember him telling me that his Mom said she was going to beat the black off him. This scared me so bad. I cried and asked my Mom how that was possible. She had to explain to me that it wasn't, it was just a phrase.
Somewhere there is a photo of JW that was taken in the backseat of a car while he was arguing with his significant other. I was on the outside of the car and I saw the flash going off. I couldn't understand what was going on until he jumped out of the car screaming that nobody was going to hit him in the head with a camera. The only thing I could think to say or do was ask for a copy of that picture.
I will always be there for the friends I have in life, as they will me. First we will be concerned, but eventually everything will be fair game for laughs and teasing. From falling down steps to getting your head smacked by a camera. Or, if you will, a drunken night with a missing shoe and a mud puddle.
I still don't know what happened to Sheila's shoe.
For instance, Sheila would be considered my best friend. The very best. She knows where I keep the box of stuff that needs to be destroyed should I become incapacitated so my Mom don't find it. She will be the one to come to the hospital with tweezers should I be in a coma, and she knows when the statute of limitations is up on some of my less than stellar moments in life.
A call to her at 3 am is never out of the question. Even if it is a call to tell her the latest joke I heard or to ask if she knows where I put my toenail clippers.
Diane is the friend that will always send me coffee. She is the one that has a very deep connection to me and my family. She may live in Ohio, but I don't hold that against her. It gives me a place to go for vacation. The only draw back to Diane is that she can't tell me how something smells or taste since she fell down a flight of steps. Her family is my family extended.
She took me to see Carrie Underwood in concert and let me stand there for 45 minutes in a trance without saying a word. She understands my obsession with music, Carrie and Crystal Bowersox. Some day we will get to meet Crystal in Toledo and I am sure Diane will be the one to thank for this.
JW, where do I start? This is the kid I grew up with. Both of us from small towns with family ties and roots in abundance. When we were very young I remember him telling me that his Mom said she was going to beat the black off him. This scared me so bad. I cried and asked my Mom how that was possible. She had to explain to me that it wasn't, it was just a phrase.
Somewhere there is a photo of JW that was taken in the backseat of a car while he was arguing with his significant other. I was on the outside of the car and I saw the flash going off. I couldn't understand what was going on until he jumped out of the car screaming that nobody was going to hit him in the head with a camera. The only thing I could think to say or do was ask for a copy of that picture.
I will always be there for the friends I have in life, as they will me. First we will be concerned, but eventually everything will be fair game for laughs and teasing. From falling down steps to getting your head smacked by a camera. Or, if you will, a drunken night with a missing shoe and a mud puddle.
I still don't know what happened to Sheila's shoe.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
A Day In The Life Of Curtis
Some people think I have a very exciting life. I am not sure where the myth that most gay men live in total excitement and parties came from but i can assure everyone out there that this isn't true. I am probably the most boring person in the entire world. I usually get up at 6:30 am after hitting the snooze button for a half hour. This morning action seems to drive Robby nutty as a fruit cake. No pun intended.
Once I get out of the bed, I stumble and fumble my way to the kitchen where I turn the coffee pot on. Why I don't set it up the night before to be ready I don't know. It has a timer, but I can't figure out how to program that either. It's very difficult to separate two coffee filters when you have double vision.
Somehow over the years, Robby has learned not to even glance in my direction until after the first sip of caffeine. It isn't a pretty picture in my house at this point. There I sit at the table holding my head because it usually feels as if it is going to fall off and roll under the table for some reason my hair is such a hot mess that Robby usually looks at me in horror with a shit eating grin on his face.
I am probably going to get attacked for this again, but I am so grateful that I don't have children. I could not even begin to imagine having to deal with a small person before work. It is hard enough dealing with a 1 year old yorkie and a 17 year old blind and deaf dog that early. If this makes me selfish or just an ass, I can deal with that.
Robby is a morning person. He hears his alarm on the first note and shuts it off as he rises from his slumber ready to get in the shower and go. I on the other hand rush in a panic out of the shower, into my clothes all while grabbing sips of the morning go go juice. I typically hurt myself at least once each morning on my way out the door. It is also a ritual that I forget either my phone or my debit card each morning and have to turn around and come back, even after Robby has asked, "do you have everything you need?"
Once in the vehicle I stare straight ahead until we arrive at our morning destination. We even pass my cousin Tina going in the opposite direction and she waves. Again, Robby makes an obvious statement. "There goes that girl you know." To this I always reply, "Her name is Tina."
You would think after 17 years together he would know my family. He usually tries to talk about something else as we drive but I only hear Charlie Browns teacher.
I like to get my coffee pot going on my desk and then gather my wits about myself before the others start to arrive, so I usually get there about 30 minutes early. I am not above telling the boss to stop talking before I have had my coffee. Some have learned this the hard way. While others see the glazed over look of a death threat brewing and just nod in my direction.
Once my day is over and I have reached my threshold of people, I make a mad dash for my sofa. There I will browse the web, watch television and in general become a giant slug waiting for somebody to come in and poor salt on me.
My night can not end until Chelsea Lately goes off the air. The best nights have Loni Love on the show. If you haven't seen Americas Sister get it. That bitch is funny! After the show ends, I check twitter in case I have been discovered and nobody told me. Then it is time to drag my lifeless body into the bedroom where I lay there thinking about all the stuff I should have done or need to do until I pass out. The next thing you know Duran Duran is singing Wild Boys on my phone again and it is time to start all over.
Once I get out of the bed, I stumble and fumble my way to the kitchen where I turn the coffee pot on. Why I don't set it up the night before to be ready I don't know. It has a timer, but I can't figure out how to program that either. It's very difficult to separate two coffee filters when you have double vision.
Somehow over the years, Robby has learned not to even glance in my direction until after the first sip of caffeine. It isn't a pretty picture in my house at this point. There I sit at the table holding my head because it usually feels as if it is going to fall off and roll under the table for some reason my hair is such a hot mess that Robby usually looks at me in horror with a shit eating grin on his face.
I am probably going to get attacked for this again, but I am so grateful that I don't have children. I could not even begin to imagine having to deal with a small person before work. It is hard enough dealing with a 1 year old yorkie and a 17 year old blind and deaf dog that early. If this makes me selfish or just an ass, I can deal with that.
Robby is a morning person. He hears his alarm on the first note and shuts it off as he rises from his slumber ready to get in the shower and go. I on the other hand rush in a panic out of the shower, into my clothes all while grabbing sips of the morning go go juice. I typically hurt myself at least once each morning on my way out the door. It is also a ritual that I forget either my phone or my debit card each morning and have to turn around and come back, even after Robby has asked, "do you have everything you need?"
Once in the vehicle I stare straight ahead until we arrive at our morning destination. We even pass my cousin Tina going in the opposite direction and she waves. Again, Robby makes an obvious statement. "There goes that girl you know." To this I always reply, "Her name is Tina."
You would think after 17 years together he would know my family. He usually tries to talk about something else as we drive but I only hear Charlie Browns teacher.
I like to get my coffee pot going on my desk and then gather my wits about myself before the others start to arrive, so I usually get there about 30 minutes early. I am not above telling the boss to stop talking before I have had my coffee. Some have learned this the hard way. While others see the glazed over look of a death threat brewing and just nod in my direction.
Once my day is over and I have reached my threshold of people, I make a mad dash for my sofa. There I will browse the web, watch television and in general become a giant slug waiting for somebody to come in and poor salt on me.
My night can not end until Chelsea Lately goes off the air. The best nights have Loni Love on the show. If you haven't seen Americas Sister get it. That bitch is funny! After the show ends, I check twitter in case I have been discovered and nobody told me. Then it is time to drag my lifeless body into the bedroom where I lay there thinking about all the stuff I should have done or need to do until I pass out. The next thing you know Duran Duran is singing Wild Boys on my phone again and it is time to start all over.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Can I get you anything else?
If you have ever worked in a place that has a drive thru window, or do so now, I can give you a few tips to make your shift go better. Warning: don't try these tips if your boss is around. I am not responsible for getting anyone fired who acts like a dumb ass they way I did.
There is nothing, and I do mean nothing, funnier than the headphones that you and the other employees have to wear. They usually have a respond, and an all button. The all button goes to the other workers and not to the asshole at the menu board. It is very important to learn where these buttons are. I learned this the hard way one night after saying to the customer by mistake..."Every single night this freak comes here. Don't they have a life?" to this statement I heard a voice say, "yes I do."
Working at Starbucks, I often found myself running the drive thru window for some reason. Why there was a drive thru window still baffles me. I was supposed to hand hot drinks out the window to someone. They would then drive off with yet another reason to be distracted on the highway.
However, by having this at our store, it did give me a chance to entertain the masses. By masses I mean the other employees. I typically liked to have everyone I worked with wear a headset. This way I could also torture the ones at the front counter while they had their welcome face on. Watching try to keep a straight face while I whispered into the headset that I hoped their customer got a yeast infection was my favorite joke.
We had several repeat customers and I didn't care to learn their names. I knew their annoying drink instead. People who frequent a Starbucks on a daily basis always want the same drink. For example, the lady who always asked for a venti caramel frappacino. "with extra, extra, extra, extra, extra, caramel." Every night I would have to hear this. It was a game to either charge her for each extra she said or to count the times she said extra.
Caramel lady did not like it when I asked her if she would like to buy a jar of caramel. She preferred us to squeeze it into the cup and cover every inch of it before pouring the beverage in. I think we all got hand cramps from caramel lady.
For some reason, the other employees would also have a hard time keeping a straight face while they waited on someone and I would slip into the back room and quietly remind them that the person they were waiting on looked like a crack whore or that they had muppet eyes. For those of you don't know, muppet eyes on a human is not cute. It is freaky to see all the whites of a persons eyes. It's very difficult to hand someone coffee once you realize that it is Oscar the grouch.
It wasn't all fun and games though. I absolutely hated cleaning the bathrooms when some dumb ass would shit on the floor and not the toilet. It wasn't fun to pick up their drug paraphernalia from the floor either. Please people, if you are gonna do drugs in Starbucks, take your needle, pipes, papers, and roach clips with you when you go. This was probably Karma coming back once again to bite me in the balls for making fun of people to pass the time.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
There is nothing, and I do mean nothing, funnier than the headphones that you and the other employees have to wear. They usually have a respond, and an all button. The all button goes to the other workers and not to the asshole at the menu board. It is very important to learn where these buttons are. I learned this the hard way one night after saying to the customer by mistake..."Every single night this freak comes here. Don't they have a life?" to this statement I heard a voice say, "yes I do."
Working at Starbucks, I often found myself running the drive thru window for some reason. Why there was a drive thru window still baffles me. I was supposed to hand hot drinks out the window to someone. They would then drive off with yet another reason to be distracted on the highway.
However, by having this at our store, it did give me a chance to entertain the masses. By masses I mean the other employees. I typically liked to have everyone I worked with wear a headset. This way I could also torture the ones at the front counter while they had their welcome face on. Watching try to keep a straight face while I whispered into the headset that I hoped their customer got a yeast infection was my favorite joke.
We had several repeat customers and I didn't care to learn their names. I knew their annoying drink instead. People who frequent a Starbucks on a daily basis always want the same drink. For example, the lady who always asked for a venti caramel frappacino. "with extra, extra, extra, extra, extra, caramel." Every night I would have to hear this. It was a game to either charge her for each extra she said or to count the times she said extra.
Caramel lady did not like it when I asked her if she would like to buy a jar of caramel. She preferred us to squeeze it into the cup and cover every inch of it before pouring the beverage in. I think we all got hand cramps from caramel lady.
For some reason, the other employees would also have a hard time keeping a straight face while they waited on someone and I would slip into the back room and quietly remind them that the person they were waiting on looked like a crack whore or that they had muppet eyes. For those of you don't know, muppet eyes on a human is not cute. It is freaky to see all the whites of a persons eyes. It's very difficult to hand someone coffee once you realize that it is Oscar the grouch.
It wasn't all fun and games though. I absolutely hated cleaning the bathrooms when some dumb ass would shit on the floor and not the toilet. It wasn't fun to pick up their drug paraphernalia from the floor either. Please people, if you are gonna do drugs in Starbucks, take your needle, pipes, papers, and roach clips with you when you go. This was probably Karma coming back once again to bite me in the balls for making fun of people to pass the time.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Bra and panties
My grandma would never leave the house if she looked like shit. This is a true statement. I was raised to believe that if you are going out of your home, at the very least comb your head and put on clean panties.
I don't know where this philosophy has gone in 2011, but for some reason we have creatures running around all over the place that look like they have just rolled out of bed. If that isn't bad enough some look they were rode hard and put away wet.
I see these pitiful people every place I go. They stand at the gas pump with cartoon sleeping pants on and house slippers that are too big for their feet. They come into my office without a bra and their hair all knotted up with a gummy bear stuck in it.
I am sure most straight men don't mind the absence of a bra, and I, on occasion can also admire a great pair of what's-its. However, when you are 8 months pregnant and the tatas hang low enough for the baby to start nursing on its way into the world, it is time to use a little support.
The same goes for men. For the love of Peter, Paul, and Mary, wear underpants. Please don't come into any building with your running shorts on if your turtle head is out of the shell. The same goes for jogging pants, are these men really trying to say, look at my low hangers and the curtain rod, I work out. No you don't work out, If you did you would need support for the twig and berries.
I will say it again. People give me the greatest thrill. I can usually find something or someone every single day that will make me either laugh, or vomit.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
I don't know where this philosophy has gone in 2011, but for some reason we have creatures running around all over the place that look like they have just rolled out of bed. If that isn't bad enough some look they were rode hard and put away wet.
I see these pitiful people every place I go. They stand at the gas pump with cartoon sleeping pants on and house slippers that are too big for their feet. They come into my office without a bra and their hair all knotted up with a gummy bear stuck in it.
I am sure most straight men don't mind the absence of a bra, and I, on occasion can also admire a great pair of what's-its. However, when you are 8 months pregnant and the tatas hang low enough for the baby to start nursing on its way into the world, it is time to use a little support.
The same goes for men. For the love of Peter, Paul, and Mary, wear underpants. Please don't come into any building with your running shorts on if your turtle head is out of the shell. The same goes for jogging pants, are these men really trying to say, look at my low hangers and the curtain rod, I work out. No you don't work out, If you did you would need support for the twig and berries.
I will say it again. People give me the greatest thrill. I can usually find something or someone every single day that will make me either laugh, or vomit.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Monday, March 7, 2011
Stephanie hates lobster
My good friend Stephanie, the one I talked about in a previous post who was obsessed with the TV show FRIENDS as much as I was, is also one of the funniest people I know. She supports my obsession with Big Brother and wants me on that show more than I do. I truly believe we are related somehow. I just need ancestry.com to help me prove it.
Nothing would make me laugh harder than when she was pissed at the guy who sat next to her. His main goal in life was to be disgusting. His second goal in life was to get attention anyway he could. He was the type that would invite himself into any conversation.
The fact that he had a lobster claw for a hand was just extra fuel for the fire. He tried to keep it hidden most days. I say be proud of your claw if you have one.
He had a nasty habit that would make her want to vomit. He would pick his nose and eat it. I of course thought it was funny as hell to see the look on her face when she had called me to her desk while he was doing it.
His stupid remarks about how cool he was would cause steam to rise from the top of her head. This event usually occurred at least there times a day much to her dismay.
Lobster Claw would also put his Bluetooth headset on each day when he left to go to his car. He wanted to give the impression that his shit didn't stick, but we all knew better from the odor that would creep out from under his ass. I always assumed he was talking to his mom even when he claimed it was his girlfriend but I highly doubted that there was a woman in his life. I don't think there is a big market out there for Lobster fetish, but I could be wrong.
Stephanie and I would always find a way to poke fun at him. Most of the time he was clueless about this, but sometimes I think he got it. Looking back I guess it was mean, but if you are going to pick your nose with your claw and eat it you are just setting yourself up for my entertainment.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Sunday, March 6, 2011
I love plastic
When I worked and lived in the city I met some amazing young women who called themselves the plastics. This is from the Movie Mean Girls, if you haven't seen it you are missing out.
I loved to torture these ladies. I would often steal stuff from their desks such as their Bratz dolls and leave them a ransom note. I would later send them a photo of their toy in a dangerous situation such as being hung by a paper clip noose. I don't know why this was so amusing to me but it was.
Poor Heather got the brunt of this mainly because she was very anal about everything on her desk. There was an unlimited supply of stuff to torture her with. Coming in to find your doll having it's naughty spots touched by another doll would send her over the edge with laughter.
Kim was another favorite of mine to torment. She was very crafty and I would often just move things on her desk and wait for her to realize something was off. She gave me skittles too. Always in even numbers.
Finally there was Ashley. I did drive her crazy but mostly I found it funny just to make her laugh. It didn't hurt either that she sat across from THE hottest guy in the office. He had a shirtless picture of himself and his wife on his desk, Bonus! She would also do something called a mouse race that I still don't understand, but she seemed to love it. Everyone needs a pet project.
These girls are amazing people but I found it very odd that they couldn't pee alone. Heather would also find it necessary to talk about her poo and it was rumored that she took others to the toilet with her for company. The fact that she could take a dump at the office and be proud of it still haunts me.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Cowboys and Tequila
In my much, much, younger days I was quite the little party boy; surprise! Let's face it. I was slim, cute, and actually had an ass that I might have even caught you looking at it.
Unfortunately, I didn't have the kind of cash required to live it up. So I had to rely on the kindness of strangers as well as my charm and "assets".
Apparently, when a man, or two men, for that matter, buy you drinks all night, kindness has nothing to do with their motives; they just want something in return...
This is a truth that transcends orientation. Especially if these particular two men are dressed and pressed like cowboys. Cowboys from Kansas City to boot. I had no idea any cowboys lived there up to this point in my life.
Needless to say as the evening progressed I naturally became cuter by the minute. They became more rugged and handsome with each shot. And I don't mean the pistols they were packing. I was in the presence of two very tall drinks of water and I was getting thirsty.
I would dance with one, then the other, then both of them. These Marlboro men where getting my best jokes; my A game. I was the shit and everyone in that room knew it.
Around midnight the tequila was pouring fast and often and the lime wedges were piling up. By this time we were all life long friends. Laughing, singing and hanging on each other like lint on an old mans scrotum.
When the bartender shouted last call he wasn't the only one with an announcement. That's when they informed me of their intentions; the price of my fun. At first my mouth hit the floor. I quickly closed it when one of them raised his eyebrow at me waiting for my "acceptance" to their indecent proposal. I had to think fast, but my head was spinning like they wanted me to do on silk sheets.
I decided my only chance of survival was to run. To lie to them and tell them that I needed a few minutes or something and go to my car. They saw through my hesitation and assured me with wide smiles that they would bring me back to my car the next morning. I was safe with them. Yea right. Safe and sound like a corpse in a roach motel.
Finally They agreed to wait for me out front. I knew I wasn't good to drive. I was afraid they would come to the parking lot to look for me if I just hid in my car; to collect on their investment. I did the only thing I could.
I went around the corner of the building and hid between two paper machines. If I waited there long enough maybe they would loose interest and go away. I sat down and folded my arms over my knees drawing them up to my chest blending into the wall behind me and was swallowed up by the darkness.
The next thing I knew I was greeted by the safety of the morning sunlight creeping across the horizon. The two paper machines had also been filled with the Sunday edition.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Unfortunately, I didn't have the kind of cash required to live it up. So I had to rely on the kindness of strangers as well as my charm and "assets".
Apparently, when a man, or two men, for that matter, buy you drinks all night, kindness has nothing to do with their motives; they just want something in return...
This is a truth that transcends orientation. Especially if these particular two men are dressed and pressed like cowboys. Cowboys from Kansas City to boot. I had no idea any cowboys lived there up to this point in my life.
Needless to say as the evening progressed I naturally became cuter by the minute. They became more rugged and handsome with each shot. And I don't mean the pistols they were packing. I was in the presence of two very tall drinks of water and I was getting thirsty.
I would dance with one, then the other, then both of them. These Marlboro men where getting my best jokes; my A game. I was the shit and everyone in that room knew it.
Around midnight the tequila was pouring fast and often and the lime wedges were piling up. By this time we were all life long friends. Laughing, singing and hanging on each other like lint on an old mans scrotum.
When the bartender shouted last call he wasn't the only one with an announcement. That's when they informed me of their intentions; the price of my fun. At first my mouth hit the floor. I quickly closed it when one of them raised his eyebrow at me waiting for my "acceptance" to their indecent proposal. I had to think fast, but my head was spinning like they wanted me to do on silk sheets.
I decided my only chance of survival was to run. To lie to them and tell them that I needed a few minutes or something and go to my car. They saw through my hesitation and assured me with wide smiles that they would bring me back to my car the next morning. I was safe with them. Yea right. Safe and sound like a corpse in a roach motel.
Finally They agreed to wait for me out front. I knew I wasn't good to drive. I was afraid they would come to the parking lot to look for me if I just hid in my car; to collect on their investment. I did the only thing I could.
I went around the corner of the building and hid between two paper machines. If I waited there long enough maybe they would loose interest and go away. I sat down and folded my arms over my knees drawing them up to my chest blending into the wall behind me and was swallowed up by the darkness.
The next thing I knew I was greeted by the safety of the morning sunlight creeping across the horizon. The two paper machines had also been filled with the Sunday edition.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Friday, March 4, 2011
OCD is a bitch
If you suffer from any form of this disease, and I believe most of us do, you might enjoy this look at some of my issues with everyday life. I have gotten better thanks to medication but there are still days I pace the floor over these things.
I hate odd numbers. Even the volume on the tv needs to be set at an even number. Skittles, m&m's and any other small candy pieces must be eaten in pairs. If there is one left in the bag the panic sets in.
Shoes must always be lined up on the floor of the closet arranged by date of purchase, color and style. This can get quite confusing at times. Although Robby throwing away two bags of my shoes when we moved made it a little easier. He still owes me several trips to the mall though.
Remote controls have to arranged according to size and facing the tv at all times. I can not go to sleep at night if one has been moved. I stay up later than Robby to avoid this. If I go to bed without them in the proper place I know for a fact that the world will end before 5 am.
Can food should be arranged according to size and all labels facing out. Robby will sometimes turn them around just to mess with me. He seems to think it is funny, I however do not.
Dog treats are to be handed out one at a time but they must eat two each time they get them. This could explain why my pets are fat.
Anyone looking for a roommate?
I hate odd numbers. Even the volume on the tv needs to be set at an even number. Skittles, m&m's and any other small candy pieces must be eaten in pairs. If there is one left in the bag the panic sets in.
Shoes must always be lined up on the floor of the closet arranged by date of purchase, color and style. This can get quite confusing at times. Although Robby throwing away two bags of my shoes when we moved made it a little easier. He still owes me several trips to the mall though.
Remote controls have to arranged according to size and facing the tv at all times. I can not go to sleep at night if one has been moved. I stay up later than Robby to avoid this. If I go to bed without them in the proper place I know for a fact that the world will end before 5 am.
Can food should be arranged according to size and all labels facing out. Robby will sometimes turn them around just to mess with me. He seems to think it is funny, I however do not.
Dog treats are to be handed out one at a time but they must eat two each time they get them. This could explain why my pets are fat.
Anyone looking for a roommate?
Thursday, March 3, 2011
I Don't Do That...
I have never been a person who liked manual labor. I have dedicated my entire life to as little physical work as possible. If I have to break a sweat or get dirty, I won't do it.
Vehicle maintenance is my sworn enemy. I don't care about cars, if they start and run, that's all I need to know. I have only changed one flat tire in my life. It was in my own driveway and Dad was trying to teach me how to do it. Of course he found it very funny when I jacked the car up first then tried to loosen the lug nuts. The tire spun and I hit the ground.
Dad laughed and I threw the tire iron across the yard and declared that the car would in fact sit there until it rusted down to nothing before I did that again! Dad changed the tire while I watched tv.
Years later I drove a car with a flat tire for about 3 miles on gravel. Robby wasn't too happy about this, but I didn't get dirty. I also complained about how loud it was and how my ears were sensitive to the noise it created.
A few months back I was riding with Joe, who works for the Highway Patrol. I was enjoying my evening of protecting and serving until we had a flat tire on a very dark road. Joe got out of the car and asked for my help.
This was not going to happen. I informed my very good friend that I don't do that. I did however hold the flash light for him. Thank you Joe for supporting my delicate nature. Although I still believe that this flat tire was karma from him getting angry and yelling at a man for leaving the scene with a drunk driver to help him avoid arrest.
Although he deserved the ass chewing, the look on Joe's face was priceless when he got back into the car and I was pointing at his dashboard camera that had been recording.
I have not changed a tire completely in my life and have intention of ever doing so. Same goes for checking the oil. I haven't done that since I asked dad for a funnel small enough to go in the dip stick hole. I will pump gas, if nobody else is with me.
Vehicle maintenance is my sworn enemy. I don't care about cars, if they start and run, that's all I need to know. I have only changed one flat tire in my life. It was in my own driveway and Dad was trying to teach me how to do it. Of course he found it very funny when I jacked the car up first then tried to loosen the lug nuts. The tire spun and I hit the ground.
Dad laughed and I threw the tire iron across the yard and declared that the car would in fact sit there until it rusted down to nothing before I did that again! Dad changed the tire while I watched tv.
Years later I drove a car with a flat tire for about 3 miles on gravel. Robby wasn't too happy about this, but I didn't get dirty. I also complained about how loud it was and how my ears were sensitive to the noise it created.
A few months back I was riding with Joe, who works for the Highway Patrol. I was enjoying my evening of protecting and serving until we had a flat tire on a very dark road. Joe got out of the car and asked for my help.
This was not going to happen. I informed my very good friend that I don't do that. I did however hold the flash light for him. Thank you Joe for supporting my delicate nature. Although I still believe that this flat tire was karma from him getting angry and yelling at a man for leaving the scene with a drunk driver to help him avoid arrest.
Although he deserved the ass chewing, the look on Joe's face was priceless when he got back into the car and I was pointing at his dashboard camera that had been recording.
I have not changed a tire completely in my life and have intention of ever doing so. Same goes for checking the oil. I haven't done that since I asked dad for a funnel small enough to go in the dip stick hole. I will pump gas, if nobody else is with me.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
The Old Lady and the Bear
A few years back I decided that I was going to join the millions of others who do the crazy day after Thanksgiving sale. Normally I don't like to get up this early but I decided it would be fun, it wasn't.
It was cold as hell that morning to start with. Why people torture themselves to save a couple bucks is beyond me. This was long enough ago that Walmart actually closed at midnight so they could re-open for the sale. So I was outside waiting.
I was shaking like a dog shitting peach seeds in the cold but I had my eyes on a couple things. One of them being the purple Care Bear for my niece. They had them for $5.00, so this was indeed a bargain.
A funny thing happens to people at these sales. They turn into wild animals when they see a store employee coming near the door. It was about 3:45 when people spotted the guy. I believe he had a great sense of humor because he turned around and walked away before he got to the doors. The crowd was pushing and shoving like a pack of wolves.
Finally the click of the lock broke the low moaning of the crowd. It was madness! People were pushing and screaming and I was standing there wondering what a delicate thing like me was doing there?
As I made my way in I noticed an older lady with a big ass purse in her cart. She had a look of evil on her wrinkled old face. I was sure it was Satan's Mother. She was heading in the direction of the toy department. I tried to get around her, but that old bat had some cart moves.
I took my chances and circled around the pet department and came out right in front of her. It was a race to get to the toys. Once we made it, I spotted the bears. There was several left, but only one purple one. She went for it.
I had no choice, I needed this bear. I looked around to see if anybody was paying attention. Then, with an accidental stumble I "fell" into her cart. It worked, it shoved her away about two feet and I grabbed the bear! I had succeeded in injuring a senior citizen, but the last purple bear was mine. She gave me a go to hell look as I smiled and nodded in her direction. I put the bear in my cart and rounded the corner to flee the scene of the crime. That's when I saw the end cap full of Care Bears.
It was cold as hell that morning to start with. Why people torture themselves to save a couple bucks is beyond me. This was long enough ago that Walmart actually closed at midnight so they could re-open for the sale. So I was outside waiting.
I was shaking like a dog shitting peach seeds in the cold but I had my eyes on a couple things. One of them being the purple Care Bear for my niece. They had them for $5.00, so this was indeed a bargain.
A funny thing happens to people at these sales. They turn into wild animals when they see a store employee coming near the door. It was about 3:45 when people spotted the guy. I believe he had a great sense of humor because he turned around and walked away before he got to the doors. The crowd was pushing and shoving like a pack of wolves.
Finally the click of the lock broke the low moaning of the crowd. It was madness! People were pushing and screaming and I was standing there wondering what a delicate thing like me was doing there?
As I made my way in I noticed an older lady with a big ass purse in her cart. She had a look of evil on her wrinkled old face. I was sure it was Satan's Mother. She was heading in the direction of the toy department. I tried to get around her, but that old bat had some cart moves.
I took my chances and circled around the pet department and came out right in front of her. It was a race to get to the toys. Once we made it, I spotted the bears. There was several left, but only one purple one. She went for it.
I had no choice, I needed this bear. I looked around to see if anybody was paying attention. Then, with an accidental stumble I "fell" into her cart. It worked, it shoved her away about two feet and I grabbed the bear! I had succeeded in injuring a senior citizen, but the last purple bear was mine. She gave me a go to hell look as I smiled and nodded in her direction. I put the bear in my cart and rounded the corner to flee the scene of the crime. That's when I saw the end cap full of Care Bears.
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