Minding Your Own Business
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Posted:Oct 30, 2013 10:24 am
Last Updated:Oct 11, 2015 4:34 pm
11254 Views
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As if reading the news isn't bad enough, today I drifted over into the "opinions" column with my coffee early this morning. I seriously question why I willingly read such things.
As best I can figure it is a combination of self punishment and entertainment.
But anywho, there was an article on polygamous relationships and how the legalization of gay marriage will open the door for poly families to seek the ability to legalize poly relationships as well.
The article was the same old shuck and jive bullshit. Is homosexuality a choice or is it a matter of being born as such. It brings up the time when it was illegal for interracial couples to marry...same shit that has been said a thousand ways by a million people. Yada yada yada. At this point in my life, I have read so much shit on both sides of the argument that none of it makes much sense.
I only have one question.
Why the hell do we allow the government and church to control such personal matters? And whatever happened to the separation of church and state? Does that only apply to taxation?
If people were being told what God they had to believe in, if they were being told what job they must do, if they were being told how to dress and where to live? All hell would break loose. It would likely set off another revolutionary war.
Yet for some reason a large portion of people in this country feel it is their right and privilege to tell other people they are right or wrong in how they choose to pursue life, liberty, and happiness. They feel that they have to dictate love to people they have never met once.
Most of them are religious folks, but there are a few garden variety haters and homophobes thrown in the mix. JUST the people I want to have control over my personal life.
This was a comment left on the article, a direct quote.
"What a messed up society we are becoming. More people that are willing to act like sex crazed lunatics than live a decent life. It's sick... And I blame Hollywood and our government for consenting to this TRASH! And you people wonder why there is so much "non-consensual sex" (they made me edit) , sex slaves and hate in our society. It's because MANY have no SHAME! N O S H A M E!"
Apparently those of us who choose to love anyone we damn well want to are to be blamed for every bit of crime in America. I was very tempted to ask this person to give me his/her definition of a 'decent life'. I was raised in a monogamous christian family. So if I am to believe that is a decent life, then I should also believe that being abusive and hypocritical is perfectly acceptable and something I should strive to become? Or perhaps I should join the "married but looking for someone to have sex with on the sly" folks here?
I refrained from asking, because bluntly? Shit splatters.
I love it when a self-proclaimed Christian spouts hate. I seriously doubt a third of the professed Christians in this world have even read two chapters of the bible. Like the preachers who teach them falsehoods, they take one or two verses completely out of context and then hammer them into something that suits their own needs and in no way represents the intended message.
It seems to me that we would all be better served to let people be and do whatever they want in the context of their private lives.
I don't care one way or another if they legalize marriage for poly's. I have never once in my life felt like marriage was necessary. I get where some unions are benefited in the legal sense, and I do not knock anyone's desire to be married if that is what they wish to do.
But proving my love for someone never once involved witnesses or a stranger reciting words to make that love a legal and binding contract.
I have been legally married four times. It did not make me a better person in any sense of the word. And it taught me how to hate with venom. I have been in my poly family for almost six years now. And the things I have learned about about myself and about life in general from being in this relationship are lessons I should have learned as a , things I should have been taught growing up in that pure and sanctified hetro-christian home.
So please, keep telling me about the sanctity of marriage and how allowing people to love one another is going to destroy this nation.
Because in times like these, we can all use a good laugh.
Speaking of a good laugh...I had to edit this, because of a word. A word that surely needs discussion in a place like this.
Ah Monkeys, how idiotic you are.
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Well Butter My Ass and Call Me Biscuit
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Posted:Oct 28, 2013 10:41 am
Last Updated:Dec 14, 2013 9:51 pm
11738 Views
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Before there was TSmeet....
Just got a phone call. Grand kidlet number eight will be born at the end of February or the first week of March.
Per the phone call I just got, number nine is apparently going to be here the end of May or the first of June.
At this point I am not sure if I should laugh or cry. But both my and are going to get a box of condoms from me for Christmas this year. And I am going to learn to make toys as a hobby, Christmas is getting pretty damned expensive.
But on the other hand, it is nice to know that my genetics have a better than 50/50 chance of surviving at least another century or so.
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23
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Fuckin' Perfect
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Posted:Oct 26, 2013 10:03 am
Last Updated:Nov 3, 2013 1:58 pm
10320 Views
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My baby!
I love Saturday now. It is wonderful to sleep in till 7am, get up and have some coffee and browse the photo group I am on and not be in a rush to get everything in the house put on the highest shelf and then make hot cocoa or chocolate milk and slice up fruit and make a bowl of cereal by 7am.
I have been busy the past couple of weeks. I have some very large potted plants. They are subtropical plants and I cannot winter them outside, so I have to bring them indoors. And this year I also have some tomatoes and bell peppers growing in giant planters and I had to drag them in as well. So basically, I have a small garden in the garage. And my garden nerd is absolutely thrilled to death. If these lights and the weekly misting work, I will have a place to help me cope with my bouts of sheer frustration at being trapped in the house through the winter. All I have left to do is hang a couple of full spectrum lights over the taller plants and I have my own little jungle room to unwind from a hard day with the bits. The Angels Trumpet which is my pride and joy is currently going through a second bloom for the first time in a couple of years.
Winter gardening...fuckin' perfect!
There for a while, when I was just putzing about as an auction driver, I kind of lost appreciation for Saturday, so it is nice to have it back.
Have a fuckin' perfect day people!
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14
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Brain Droppings
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Posted:Oct 24, 2013 12:07 pm
Last Updated:Nov 4, 2013 5:39 am
8921 Views
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This...this was home for the first 34 years of my life. My bus to and from school passed this particular view twice a day for twelve years. And there are days when I miss this. Miss it like a tree misses a cool Spring rain in the heat of Summer; and there are times when I long to return and hide from the wicked world in the deep quiet of those woods and hills. But my life is here, at least for now, no one knows what tomorrow will bring. Least of all me. My life has always ran in accordance to chaos theory.
It is quiet at the Sanitarium for now. Finally. God I am SO looking forward to Friday this week. Weebit has been in full blown terrorist mode for 3 days in a row. She has pushed every boundary and button I have. Two days without repeatedly saying 'No' will be heaven sent. And cartoons suck these days. Every one of these idiotic shows I am subjected to kills at least ten of my brain cells. By the time weebit starts school, I should be approaching brain-dead. I have succumbed to the lure of television again. I swore off television in 2004, and up until recently I rarely ever watched it. I am hooked on this show, American Horror Story: Coven. Which is killing approximately the same number of brain cells, but at least it is entertaining.
And I got a beef with one of the trash truck drivers. They only pick up at a couple of houses in this neighborhood, so he makes four trips by my house. Like his ass is on fire and the only water is in the next state over. Before I started keeping the , I really didn't pay a lot of attention to him, because honestly the around here are all school age and most of the residents are at work when they run. Other than me an a handful of retirees, there wasn't many people to be threatened by his driving. But now there is a . A who is usually napping when he comes barreling up to the stop sign directly in front of the house. He is a brilliant driver, who slams his brakes, squalling tires at this same stop sign that has been here in the same fucking place for 5 years at least. AND then he takes off like a rock hauler grabbing second. Which rattles the window, which makes the dogs bark, which wakes the , who begins to cry, which makes my hair stand on end and my one good nerve fray to threads because the interior of the house sounds like an asylum.
Maybe I should go by a stop stick. 
The point of this whole blog is....I have writers block, my mind is a creative wasteland.
Maybe I will give this a go later, or tomorrow.
I think the plan today is corral Weebit in the living room, go pull a book off the shelf and try to read in between bouts of saying "No!" and trying to protect the mutts from her inquisitive nature.
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Bringing Sexy Back from the Dead
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Posted:Oct 22, 2013 9:18 am
Last Updated:Sep 4, 2015 6:53 am
10162 Views
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Another sketch. I found a photo on the internet for my inspiration. Unfortunately, I sketched a bit too big and ran out of paper before I ran out of dress. But I still like it.
So yesterday, after I was bragging about a triumphant Monday, typical Monday attacked. I went to use the bathroom and I was washing my hands afterwards when I heard Weebit opening one of the bedroom doors. I thought I had turned the water all the way off when I dashed out to see what she was into now.
Turns out that I did not get it all the way shut off and I left the sink stoppered. I discovered my little mistake about oh, 25-35 minutes later. Got to mop both the upstairs and the downstairs while running herd on both of the bits. Thank God Mister was here to help. It could have been SO much worse.
Fun Times! Henceforth, there will be no more bragging about triumphant Mondays from me. Karma bit me in the ass hard enough, lesson learned.
It is Fall here for sure now, I have the furnace on today and we are supposed to get our first frost tonight. I dread seeing it to be honest. I miss my flowers and all the life that lives among them.
I am feeling a little Autumn-ish myself these days. I am on the downhill side of menopause and it is true what they say, it steals desire. My biggest desire these days are quiet days and good reads.
Most days I feel almost as sexy as a sack of potatoes. I have no desire to dress up in something sexy and spend hours doing my hair and makeup, I get no particular thrill from hearing someone tell me I look good, although it does make me smile and say thank you. It kind of irks me when strangers hit on me, when it once was a sought after compliment.
My sexy is dead.
But, oddly enough I do not miss it all that much. I find it is much easier to just be comfortable in my own skin and happy with the soul that resides in the flesh I spent so many years being discontent with.
I realized something about myself a while back, when caught up in my musing. I spent about 35 years of my life trying to be and do what society told me I should aspire to and the only thing that ever come from it was a lot of bad marriages and a lot of heartbreaks. And when I quit, when I finally said to hell with society and perfect relationships and picket fences and happily ever afters, that is when real honest love found me. Because when I decided to be happy instead of running the rat race, I started letting people see the truth of who I am. And who I am, contrary to popular belief, is a fairly decent human being who has compassion, honesty, laughter, -like wonder at the world, a sense of loyalty and so many other good things to offer.
Maybe love was able to find me, because I finally learned to love myself just as I am.
Wrinkles, gray hair, fat ass and all.
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Light Bulbs Everywhere!
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Posted:Oct 21, 2013 11:08 am
Last Updated:Oct 22, 2013 1:34 pm
9207 Views
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While I will no longer share my photography on here, I will share some photos of things I have drawn or pics I have taken with my cell phone!
I drew this a couple of years back, used colored pencils on heavy art paper.
I liked so I put a frame on it. (Eat your heart out Beyonce...)
I met the coolest man yesterday!!
We went cruising the back roads yesterday, the leaves are turning and it was a gorgeous fall day, the weather was perfect.
So we are puttering along down this little dirt road in the middle of nothing an nowhere looking at the trees and the dead ripe soybean fields. and we came upon these HUGE colorful statues in a side yard. There was a sign painted on a piece of Styrofoam like they use to float a dock that said "Honk 4 Artist" and another one that said "For Sale."
We pulled into the drive, and he walked up to us, he had been working on his 'art shack' repairing a leaky roof, and he saw us gawking along.
It turns out that the resident knows this man. After a bit of general chatter, I asked him what medium he was using to create his statues. And I got my mind blown, because I assumed he was going to tell me chicken wire and fiberglass.
These glorious, huge, colorful statues were created from using recycled trash. He had reclaimed some old AstroTurf that was used for the logo on a sports field, he had reclaimed old marking paint that is used to spray out the lines on a ball field, he had reclaimed old Styrofoam when they changed out the floats under the docks on a rather sizable lake, old swim fins, little pieces of broken door trim and wood, old books, old windows. mussel shells...and he turned them into these wonderful whimsical pieces of outdoor art.
Not only did he have these things, he also showed us some of his paintings. He is a noted local artist, come to find out. And probably one of the nicest guys I have ever met. He was so happy to let me photograph his stuff and ask a million questions..
So, I am going to write a human interest article about him and his wonderful, imaginative way of keeping stuff out of our landfills and giving it a new life that will allow it to deteriorate slowly and be less of an impact on the environment. Who knows, maybe it will get published somewhere?
And for a Monday? This has been a most excellent Monday. I bought a potty chair for Weebit over the weekend, and I am proud to report we had success the first time using it!
The smallest victory on a Monday is worth bragging about.
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Gifted with Memory Charms
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Posted:Oct 17, 2013 5:59 pm
Last Updated:Nov 12, 2013 1:47 pm
9156 Views
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Ahhh, blessed silence!! The bits are gone, resident and family are at school meetings. So it is just me and the mutts and, God help me, a Harry Potter movie.
Yes, I am really this boring.
But I really treasure these quiet little moments of silence and solitude. The movie is just a left over from what the kiddos were watching. And a bit of a guilty pleasure of mine. It is one of my favorite series, I watched parts of it with my when she was in high school, and parts of it with my bestie, so it brings back some happy memories to sit and re-watch them sometimes.
It is funny what triggers memories, sometimes it is a sight or a sound. My favorite memories are triggered by scent.
I love the smell of hot coffee over an open campfire early in the morning, and the smell of eggs and bacon frying over camp stoves outside. It makes me remember the camping trips and wagon trains I went on with my family. I love the way the earth smells after a warm spring rain in the deep of a forest. I can recall hiding from the rain in the deep of the woods when I was outside playing. I love the way honeysuckle smells on a warm summer night with a soft mountain wind carrying the smell through an open window. The scent of a misty morning standing alongside a field full of wild flowers and tall grass. The smell of leather and horses. These smells always bring back memories from my youth that I associated with happiness.
I think one of the main reasons I am back here is the escape it offers from the real world and all its many problems. I find the times we live in too frightening for words. So I can come here and I can cruise around and read blogs and find a laugh or something that inspires me. I can find old friends and new ones. I can pour over old memories and share the ones that made me laugh or taught me a lesson, and open a window into who I am in the off hand chance that there is a friend out there that connects with that person.
It's not a bad way to pass the time. 
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Exactly Who....
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Posted:Oct 16, 2013 9:28 am
Last Updated:Sep 4, 2015 6:58 am
8915 Views
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...decided bat-shit is crazy?
Weebit is napping early, so I figured I might as well get on here and see if I can stir the dust in my head up a little bit. After all there is plenty of it up there, and I likely won't have enough time to blog for the next couple of days. Bigbit has the next couple of days off from school because of parent-teacher conferences.
Yay. Woohoo. Can't wait.
Did I mention Bigbit is hyperactive and has behavioral disorders?
Sometimes, early in the morning, when I am dragging my tired old ass out of the bed, I stop and look at myself in the mirror and ask myself.
"What the FUCK were you thinking? You survived parenthood and you want to go through all this angst, drama, and turmoil AGAIN?"
The short answer? Yes.
, all of them, even the ones who have these 'issues' like Bigbit make me smile and laugh. They give me hope at times. They stir old memories of my own .
One of the happiest memories I have of my was watching him play peewee league football the first year he played.
He was all of five years old the first year he played, and just soo proud to be playing. He was given the position of Defensive End for most games, but since he played at a time in the sport when it was about having fun and learning to play as a team and not really too much about the winning of a trophy, the coach tried to make sure that each boy would have a chance to actually run a ball in for a touchdown.
All season he practiced catching that ball. We threw footballs with him, his sister who was 3 at the time was recruited, hell even Grandma got in on the practice sessions. He recruited anyone he could to pass the football with.
So his big day came, he was put in on an offensive play as a wide receiver the second game of the season. The first play they made first down, and his team was looking good!
On the second play, the quarterback passed the ball to the center, the center looked around, saw my boy open and fired off the ball. And with the grace of a season pro ball player he caught the ball, tucked it tight under his arm, looked for his opening and seeing none.....
He took off for the opposing teams goal post. 
The coach is running down the sidelines, screaming at the top of his lungs for my little pro ball player to "Turn around!! The other way, go the OTHER WAY!!!" So are a good portion of the other parents and all of his teammates.
My , head down, arm out, ball tucked gave no indication he heard anything. All the other players on the field decided to give chase, joining the course of voices telling him to turn around.
He was just running, head down for that goal line. Listening had nothing to do with it.
So he makes it to the end zone and triumphantly spikes the ball, and then does this little chicken-walk victory dance.
I was already cracking up, but when the victory dance came everyone in the place just broke up. His coach laughed until he was crying.
At first my looked somewhat confused, and one of his team members must have explained to him what he had done wrong, and for just an instant he looked like he might cry, he was so disappointed.
His coach walked out on the field and squatted down beside my and talked to him for a few minutes, then patted him on the back and sent him back to the bench with a huge grin on his face.
The game continued, and his team won the game. Which meant that the coach would take everyone for an ice cream after the game.
When he got in the car, he was still beaming. I asked him, "What happened out there, why did you run to the other teams goal?"
His answer still makes me smile, "But Mom, I didn't know goals had a side, I thought we changed directions to make sure everyone got a chance to use both ends of the field." So after a small moment of Mom trying to explain with her limited knowledge of the game how it works, I asked him what did Coach said.
Coach had told my that it was ok that he had ran the wrong way that maybe he should have explained that part a little better, and that his catch was one of the best catches he had ever seen.
I thanked his coach afterwards, and he confessed privately to me that my had probably given him one of the best laughs he had ever had in years of coaching the game, there was no way he was going to let him feel embarrassed for trying his hardest.
I loved going to watch those games, and my learned so much from taking part of them.
And I must be off now, I know this is an abrupt ending but Weebit is awake and there is a good chance that she might demolish the house if I don't keep an close eye on her.
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Three Valuable Lessons I Learned as A Road Warrior Princess
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Posted:Oct 15, 2013 10:46 am
Last Updated:Sep 4, 2015 7:00 am
8342 Views
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Many of you may not realize this, but I was once a Road Warrior Princess. I had a job for about 2 years that had me driving most of Missouri, southern parts of Iowa and Nebraska, and eastern Kansas. I pulled out of some Kansas hotel room or another hauling Indian electrical engineers and a small fortune in cell phones and modems around 9pm in a shiny new rental vehicle and hauled ass in whatever direction they told me to drive.
Upon reaching our destination, (Normally that destination was a cell phone tower in the middle of Farmer Fred's hay field smack dab in the middle of nowhere and nothing), we would stop for about ten minutes and wait for the company to unlock the tower. Then the tech would take an initial reading from the unlocked tower, and away we go! It is so much fun to drive in a 50 mile stop and start radius around this one single tower, taking readings at 5 mile intervals in each direction. A lot like NASCAR on Thorazine. Fun stuff. I consumed enough coffee during that time in my life to float a small armada of war ships.
During the course of this job I met more cops than I have met in the entire rest of my life. And most of them were really nice guys who having ascertained that we were not rebel rousers, hoodlums, or stalkers, smiled and told us to have a nice night. Of course there were a couple of exceptions. Two to be exact. One bullet Barney, whom I have previously blogged about, and then a little noobie cop who was full of testosterone and bullshit who was very offended that I pulled a u-turn in front of him and wanted to roust me out of frustration. The turn was perfectly legal, he was simply pissed that I did it before he passed me, I guess. I never got a ticket and even though his attitude was just short of uncivil, I smothered him with kindness.
Things I learned from the job.
1) Never EVER buy a used rental car. Most nights I drove like I was in a qualifying heat race. And yes, I have gone airborne over small hills in places, slid sideways around a turn a couple of times, and I took one Ford Flex 4-wheeling down a rain-soaked tractor road in the middle of a tornado-producing storm. Them Duke boys ain't got shit on me, and rental cars are used like two dollar hookers on dollar night.
2) Never ever let someone who has not grown up driving in the United States, drive you. One night I let one of the techs drive when we were on an extremely long testing route in Nebraska. When I woke up from my nap, we were driving down a two lane secondary road on the wrong side of the road. Thank God it was 3am in Nebraska. I would not be here to talk about this if it had been in Kansas City.
That was the last time I ever let one of them drive me anywhere.
3) Never ever get caught after midnight in a one town. Small town cops don't have a lot to do, and I think they spend a lot of their time inventing potential crisis scenarios that will allow them to become the hero they know they are. Or they have been on the job since Truman was in office and they are bored and mean. If a cop does happen to pull you over in Bob's Town? He/She is going to want to know everything except what color your underwear are. If they want to know the answer to the underwear question, they will don their gloves for a cavity search.
I never got cavity searched, but One Bullet Barney did kind of make me worry that it was going to happen.
'Tis a most peaceful day here at the Shady Acres Sanitarium for the Aged and Deranged, I think I will take the poppet for a walk when nap time is over.
Hope you guys are enjoying a beautiful day yourselves.
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I See the Assassins Failed
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Posted:Oct 11, 2013 8:13 pm
Last Updated:Mar 27, 2014 6:45 am
9145 Views
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*Chuckles I see that some things around here remain, unfortunately, the same. I really should put a photo up on my profile, the wrinkles and gray hair should scare em off.
Once upon a time, I was a High Priestess at the Shrine of the Holy Waffle. Our little shrine was a beacon of sobriety for the numerous bars that surrounded us, as well as being one of the very few late night restaurants for many weary graveyard shift workers. What follows is a recounting of one of many 'bar nights' I spent working at the Shrine. Names have been changed, because frankly I don't remember names all that well.
Being a smoker, I always worked the smoking section of the restaurant before they forced all restaurants to go smoke free. And on bar nights, my section stayed jumping.
Since I don't know the woman's name, I will refer to her as the Blond Cougar. BC for short. She was of average height, high end salon hair, nails, always dressed in a label, good jewelry, nothing costume. She polished and perfect in every way...till she got to us. The hair was usually pretty unkempt and the makeup was melting like ice cream on a hot summer day by the time she made her triumphant entry into the Shrine. While I did not actively detest the woman, she was one of the sorts that could go either way, it was always a toss up whether she was going to be a monumental bitch drunk, or if she was going to be a happy-happy-love-everyone drunk.
BC was not a true cougar, she showed up with guys from all age groups, and on this particular night, she was with some traveling salesman type cat who was around her own age. My best guess on that age would be early to mid 40's, but as many times as I saw her soused? She might have been a 35 year old alcoholic. While she was a regular, she was one I never bothered getting to know all that well. She was just a tad too, ummm...volatile. I try to avoid drama, and those sorts always bring drama. And since she was never the one to pay for the meal or the tip, I didn't invest the time to get to know her.
On this particular night, BC was plowed. Her 'date', (Translation: Dude who could afford to keep the glass full.) was actually more or less dragging her across the parking lot and the grill op and myself were taking bets on who she was going to be, the happy drunk or the cunt-esque drunk.
Turns out we were both wrong, she was the incoherent, couldn't talk drunk. And in hindsight, I am pretty sure she had been Micky'ed.
So the Salesman guides her none to gently to a booth in my section and pours her into the seat, taking the seat on the opposite side of the table. I asked them what they wanted to drink and he asked for two coffees.
I brought their coffee then took their orders, hoping against hope that I had managed to hear her correctly, because it was like talking to someone with a mouth full of marbles and 2 brain cells. I called the order and went to offer them a refill on their coffee while I was waiting for the grill to call my order up. BC had roused from her stupor a bit, and apparently was really really pissed at the Salesman. I am not sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that the only word anyone could have possibly understood was the loud "motherfucker' she spat at him as she pounded her fist on the table.
The Salesman was not very drunk at all, if I were to guess I'd say he had not had more than one or possibly two drinks. He was bravely trying to calm her down when she slung one of her arms out and pushed a cup of coffee into his lap. On drunk night the coffee is always fresh and hot, I kept 3 pots in constant rotation. I winced and asked him if he was ok and handed him a cloth kitchen towel. He went to the restroom and dried off the old twig and berries and returned about the same time the food came up. I took them their eats and went about tending to the rest of my customers.
About ten minutes had passed and I had all my food out, so I was headed to the back to help the grill op bring out some supplies for his work station and maybe snag a drag before I went back to offer another round of refills. Just as I was about to pass the table, BC had a mouthful of omelet and she was attempting to speak again. The Salesman wound up wearing most of it, because the word " of a Bitch" causes spray. He sat back and pushed his plate away with a pained look and started pulling napkins out of the dispenser to wipe himself off with.
The grill op and myself decided we were gonna hold off a minute on restocking the line, just in case the Salesman decided to stab her with a fork or something. Neither of us were mentally prepared for what happened next.
While the Salesman was wiping the food off his rather nice shirt and tie, BC sat bolt upright in the seat, her head nodded back then forward and then she did the most graceful face dive straight into her omelet I do believe I have ever beheld.
I am ashamed to say that not only did I laugh, I laughed until I cried. So did several other customers and all of my coworkers. It was a scene straight out of Hollyweird.
The Salesman sat there with a weird look on his face, like he just could not really register what had just happened, and we all lost our shit again when she rolled her head sideways in the plate and blew out her breath and chunks of half chewed food spewed from between her lips with a sound somewhat like a baby blowing raspberries, only a little more...lumpy?
I could barely breathe, and I just could not pull it together. I was trying really hard to be sympathetic to the poor guys plight, but it is not very believable when someone is saying "Oh my God, do you want me to call an ambulance?" between bursts of belly laughs. He declined with a small shake of his head. His face was so red it had a purple cast and I apologized to him for my lack of decorum. He assured me it was no big deal.
BC rolled her face back into the omelet, so I reached down and picked her head up with one hand and slid the plate out from under her head because as entertaining as it was to watch her wallowing in the plate I did not want to see her asphyxiate on a chunk of jalapeno pepper.
The Salesman got up and walked stiffly and slowly to the restroom again. I assumed he was going to go wash up, because she nailed him pretty good with her 'word-spray'. I left her laying there, figuring that once he had his shit together he would come back and throw her over his shoulder and caveman her back to the car.
I was headed for my smoke when I caught a figure darting across the parking lot. I turned just in time to see the Salesman, sans BC getting into his little white rental car. He peeled out of the restaurant like the hounds of hell were in hot pursuit.
And he gifted me with BC, because she was still face down, egg and veggies dripping from her hair in MY booth.
Well, sister....I feel bad for your troubles but you are not going to nap in one of my 'hot seats'.
So, I tried to wake her.
First I tried just saying "Ma'am, you need to wake up." No response.
I moved on to reaching over and gently shaking her shoulder, while talking to her, telling her she needed to wake up. Nothing...not even a twitch.
I sat her upright in the seat and her head flopped back like a rag doll. I took her shoulders and shook her slightly and yelled. "Ma'am!! You need to wake up." I would have gotten more of a response from the cooler door. And I was starting to become rather concerned for BC. Alcohol poisoning happens and as absolutely ripped as she was it was a very distinct possibility. So I picked up the phone and called 911.
They were there in about ten minutes.
It took them nearly 20 minutes to rouse her by pumping pure oxygen into her. They had already sent the newbie to get the stretcher, and the cop was starting to question us about her 'date' when she finally started to snap out of it.
The cop that came with them started talking to her once she was roused and she stonewalled on giving up the guys name and admitted to having at least 7-10 well drinks at the bar.
The cop was very cool, he didn't take her to jail. I am guessing he figured that the $1000 ambulance call and the fact she was going to have to catch a cab to get home was punishment enough.
After everyone left, she went to the bathroom and tidied herself up a bit, came back and paid for the bill and apologized to me for what had happened and ordered another coffee to go. I felt pretty bad for her, and kind of ashamed of myself for laughing like I did.
It was the last time I ever saw her in the restaurant.
But if I live to be a hundred years old, I will never forget that night.
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12
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Short and Sweet
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Posted:Oct 11, 2013 12:09 pm
Last Updated:Oct 13, 2013 7:17 pm
8115 Views
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I might be able to grab ten minutes later tonight, but I doubt it lol. One computer, 4 users and a house full of .
But for the moment I have that beloved sanctuary of nap time and a cartoon for the older of the two.
There be peace in this valley.
Momentarily.
But I have given some thoughts to which Waffle Shrine tale I am gonna share. It was a really great night, this chick passed out in a spicy omelet!
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8
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Nuclear Waste Treatment Facilities
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Posted:Oct 10, 2013 12:26 pm
Last Updated:Oct 26, 2013 5:50 am
9143 Views
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I figured before I start writing here again, I should bring you up to speed and explain what I can and cannot do in regards to this blog.
I am no longer a High Priestess of the Waffle Shrine, nor am I driving exotic cars I could not possibly ever afford at rousing speeds of 12.5mph.
I know you must be asking yourself what kind of high adventure employment I am doing these days.
Well, it is high risk work, that comes with toxic waste, meltdowns, and explosions.
I am babysitting. One is in grade school, the other is a .
In other words, my time to be spent goofing off on here centers around nap time. Which can be from zero minutes to 2.5 hours, depending on my ability to run down the battery on a battery that has extended life
There will be some days (like today) that I won't have time to write out individual replies. I no longer have the leisure to spend most of the day farting around in Blogsville.
So most of the time, my replies to comments will have to be condensed into one reply that will be posted as a comment.
If that causes you not to read then I do apologize, but there really ain't a whole hell of a lot I can do about it. My time is severely limited.
And God only knows what I will write about. I am pretty fed up with the Government, pretty fed up with Religion, pretty fed up with Media.
So I might vent a bit about those things.
I do have some leftover Waffle Wenching stories that I can blow the dust off of and tell for your amusement.
And a few tales from my past that I haven't told here, yet.
So I am gonna give it a shot, see what happens and try to stretch out these old rusty writing muscles of mine.
For those of you who remember me, yes I am still shooting photos. But I have found other outlets for posting those, so I will just be posting shit that I found on the world wide web that amuses me, or maybe upsets me, or simply mystifies me. Cause it is free, plentiful and it is cheap... much like this blog.
And my little wild has woken from slumber and my time here today is spent.
Love Peace and Bacon Grease, you cool cats.
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16
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Government Shut Downs and Other Pointless Shit.
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Posted:Oct 9, 2013 11:38 am
Last Updated:Oct 26, 2013 5:54 am
9536 Views
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It seems this site is being ran by far far FAR right wing conservatives. This place has more rules than a Baptist tent revival. And it is about half as much fun.
They revoked my membership because I wasn't sending out icebreakers.....
I knew I should have kept that damn ice pick.
Sooo, is anyone even still reading my ramblings? Or is it time for me to close up shop here and move on to something new?
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18
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To link to this blog (wildnwanton) use [blog wildnwanton] in your messages.
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