Thursday, May 31, 2007

Tales From the Road: Cheeb and Email Don't Mix!

Well hey there, y’all! What an amazing age we live in. If you watch “Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader?” then you’ll know, of course, that this is the Cenozoic Age, which is Latin for Cretins Email Nonsensical “Ol Zany Odd Idiotic Crap (get it?!) I can’t remember life before email. Actually, I can’t remember what I had for breakfast this morning (probably Diet Coke and a cigarette!) but truly, email has enriched my life.

I love email. I really love the fact that I can take a picture (from a phone….HELLO!!!) and send it to God and everybody. I can also forward chain letters instead of paying for postage. (Okay, my hair has not fallen out, my husband has never impregnated a ferret, and my groovy Kitchen-Aid mixer still works, but damn sure I still forward those things because anything COULD happen and I am NOT ashamed of my Lord and savior, ‘kay? Y’all know who you are, so stop sending them already. Dad!) Anyway….

I love the good old days of email. I realize that it’s a relatively new invention. Y’know, in terms of Cenozoic geologic time. But we have entered a new age of electronic communication. I like to call it “The Age of Email Stalker Bullshit Terrorism!” Allow me to explain.

In the early days of email (last week), I would get about a dozen emails a day. Two of those were from friends, two were chain letters (from Dad) and the rest were either ways to “enlarge my member and make her scream…get VIAGRA NOW!” or ways to earn a doctorate degree based on life experience. (“Yes, I have a Juris Doctorate in Biggus Dickus! PHAW on your business degree from Harvard….LOSER!) I could pick and choose from any number of serious business opportunities (I need must wire right now immediately 40 gazillion eleven dollars into your account from Bank of Nigeria) or “Earn big money on your back! Great benefits!” Those were good times. I was busy screaming, studying, kiting checks…. Nevermind!

Well, as I said, times have changed. I remember an email that I received that should have been a signal to me of “THE END TIMES!” Y’all know hubby Jerry has always been a real handy dandy home improvement type. Anyway, I was very pregnant with Jenda (No, really. I know I looked REALLY pregnant five minutes after conception, but at this point in the story, I was eight and a half months and roughly the size of Wyoming.) Anyway, here comes this email….

“Hi friends! As you know, I have just had major abdominal surgery and Mr. Man has a bad back, and we are just so ready to get out of this sucky South Florida real estate market.” (Their house was in foreclosure. Again.) “Anyway, we are throwing a ‘painting party’ and your invited!” (They misspelled ‘you’re!’ I corrected it… smarter than a fifth grader, y’know. ) “We need you to paint the living room and dining room, replace the water heater, fix the hole in the kitchen ceiling, and tile the half bathroom downstairs. We will supply lunch and beverages, and there will be great music. We look forward to seeing you Saturday!”

What’n HAYULL?!

Let me see if I have this right. You want my pregnant self, my long-suffering husband, and some home improvement fairies to come to YOUR house, completely remodel it, and you’re gonna feed us? Oh, and don’t let me forget ‘great music’…I think ‘Crazy’ by Patsy Cline would be in order.

Trust me. You don’t want us. You want Ty Pennington. And when he clears up that DUI thing and you quit puffing on cheeb, I bet y’all can make magic! PUH-LEEZE!

I must say that while Jenda is too young for email, she certainly gets invited to a whole heap of birthday parties. Ah, the fun and innocence of a child’s party, right? HA! I actually get emails from the parents with gift registries for the little tykes. ‘Missy Ray loves Dora, Spongebob, Barbie, and dress-up clothes. She is registered at Walmart, Target, and Wee Bee Cheebheads.’ After one too many of these, I went online and ordered a buttload of copies of ‘Emily Post’s Guide to Etiquette’. This way, we can teach these kids some manners (and the parents, too!) and since the Federal Government says our kids don’t get enough exercise, they can damn sure get a workout from lugging that heavy ass book around!

Not too long ago, I heard from one of my friends, Casey. He had recently been stalked, er, emailed by an old acquaintance (no, not me!) for some assistance. I just LOVE this online panhandling! Seems Casey’s friend, Rudi, has had some medical issues and needs money. Okay, welcome to the USA in the 21st century, cheebster. Rudi went so far as to post some really gruesome car accident pics in the email (could have been anyone!), then said he needs $1500.00 for ‘Canadian Crutches’. He went on to add the address for all and sundry to send their donations, or ‘blessings’.

Of course, Casey asked my opinion and I was more than happy to bless him with it. First of all, Rudi lives in Texas. He can get a brightly painted and beautifully hand-carved pair of ‘South of the Border Supports’ for a hell of a lot less than $1500.00 ‘Canadian Crutches’. Is there some special reason they have to be Canadian? If he’s looking to be some kind of saint by getting us to all bless each other, then damn! He can start a whole cottage industry in Mexico and create jobs for a lot of poor people by outsourcing those crutches out of Canada and into Mexico. (“Canadian Crutches? Chu don’ need no stinkin’ Canadian Crutches!”) And think what he could save on shipping!

Where would it end? Brazilian braces? Peruvian prosthetics? Colombian joints? Oh, nevermind! The sad fact of the matter is that we have regressed from the days of panhandling on street corners where you might get your windshield washed to electronic begging. My feeling is, if you can afford a computer, well sell that badboy along with your blood plasma and buy your own crutches! Or sell your computer and use the money to hire a contractor for home repairs. I feel compassion for anyone with medical needs and no money (but hey, I voted Democrat!) I understand the need to remodel your home and try to move to a better place. But damn. Don’t terrorize your friends with this, ‘kay? Use email the way God intended it to be used. Drop your friends a quick note, say hi, stay in touch, and leave it at that. And always remember, ‘Friends Don’t Let Friends Remodel’.

Sunday, May 27, 2007

There's More Than One Kind of Funk In Here!

Well hey there y’all! Geeze, the things you learn when your child finally takes a nap and you can watch the news. My stars! I had NO IDEA things were so interesting in this country. Lemme tellya how I got the shock of my life watching CNN the other day.

Okay, I know everyone is consumed with the whole Anna Nicole Smith baby-momma-drama (or daddy, in this case!) Jerry and I have watched this unfold with alarm. Not just for her baby and all this legal drama but the fact that she died, like, how many weeks ago and she is still not buried? Folks, that’s just damn creepy. But that isn’t even the most shocking part. I saw on the news today that JAMES BROWN is still not buried!


He died, what, sometime last year? Sick, really sick! Is our culture so celebrity crazed that we can’t let go, even after death (and certain decay and decomposition?) Sing with me folks, to the tune of “I Feel Good”….

Don’t smell good
I’m stiffer than wood
Don’t smell nice
Formaldehyde spice

It’s rank… I’m stank

I have to tell you, I’m pretty sure this is not how celebrities want to be remembered. I mean, I cleaned out the refrigerator the other day and some good chicken had gone bad. I got a whiff of that and started thinking ‘Trim Spa’. It’s not good.

Of course the other interesting and really creepy thing in the news is the launch by Krispy Kreme of their new…


‘Scuse me, what’n HAYULL is the point? You don’t go to Krispy Kreme to eat healthy! (If you do, you’re probably the kind of sicko-fiend that would die and stay above ground for the next several weeks!) Anyway, health experts have already jumped all over this and are quick to point out that these donuts have only 20 less calories and one less gram of fat than the regular ones, so again?

The point?

Which gets me to thinking….

No one in their right mind is gonna buy those damn fool donuts. I think they should take James Brown and Anna Nicole Smith to a landfill somewhere and cover them up with all of those unsold donuts. The preservatives in the donuts will slow down, well, you know, and it pretty much solves all their problems.

Sounds like the makings of ‘A Funky Good Time’ to me!

Thursday, May 24, 2007

Empires Rise and Fall. Wonderbra is Forever!

Well hey there, y’all! Thought I’d drop a line and say hello and let you know that things here are good. I had a bit of a scare recently, well, a scare and the shock of my life. Allow me to explain.

See, I live within the law and also by an unspoken code of ethics among women. Y’all galpals know what I mean. We don’t date each others’ exes. We don’t cry “hair trauma” to the hairdresser and get our friend’s appointment when they really need it. And we have no qualms about disciplining each others’ kids, only because we love them as our own and want them to go far in life. I mean, c’mon, look at our president. It took a village to raise that idiot. But, back to my story.

When Jerry and I relocated here, I made friends with this really cool woman at work named Markie. She lives in the same community, so I picked her brain about good places to eat, good shopping, the best hair salons (cheap with no wait!) and of course, doctors. Markie rose to the occasion and became my living, breathing almanac. But back to that unspoken code…she left out a rather important detail.

It starts with the big scare. I was having my shower a few days ago (which is scary on SO many levels) and so decided to lather up my hair with the deep conditioning rinse and let it do it’s thing while I shaved my legs and underarms. Let me tellya, I am the poster child for breast cancer awareness, so if anyone ever saw me in the shower, they would think there was an eclipse if they saw my big fat ass. No, what I meant to say is they would think I’m some kind of self-pervert because I always check for anything suspicious. And to date, I have been really lucky. But the other night, I felt a lump in my armpit.

I can honestly say it is probably the size of a raisin, but to me, it felt like the size of Wyoming (kinda like my ass!) Anyway, all shaving activity ceased and I stayed awake all night praying and waiting for daybreak to call the doctor for an appointment. Remember, the one Markie recommended to me? So, they tell me to come in immediately and have it checked out. Off I go in my mommie uniform of old sweatpants, no makeup, deep-conditioned hair in a scrunchy and an old RUSH concert t-shirt that has seen better days (like back when the band first formed!) Away I went.

I had been to the office once before and I saw the physician’s assistant, Myrtle or Iris or something like that. I went into the examining room and waited for her. There was a knock at the door and in walked the actual doctor. Three thoughts went through my mind simultaneously.

1. OMG this is the BEST looking man I have ever seen!
2. Markie, you bee-yotch, why did you FAIL to mention that this is the best looking man ever?
3. Holy $#!^ he is going to have to examine my noo-nahs and HE IS THE BEST LOOKING SOB I HAVE EVER SEEN!

I could hardly recover enough to speak to him. I know what you’re thinking, too. I mean, I have had a baby, so surely I am no longer self conscious around doctors. Folks, I pick doctors VERY carefully! They are all highly skilled, old, ugly, and just one step ahead of Stevie Wonder on the vision placement test, ‘kay? So, Dr. McDreamy takes my blood pressure and says, “Wow, your pressure’s a bit high.”

Right, sport. I am going to have to take my shirt off in front of you, and let’s just say that my boobs fell faster and farther than the Roman Empire. I never finished shaving my underarms, but that’ll be painfully obvious to you in another couple of minutes, and I am going to leave here and go commit murder. At least Markie’s kids are grown and they can fend for themselves!

Sure enough, here came the dreaded “Remove your top and bra, put the gown on open in the front, and I’ll be back in five minutes.”

After he left, a quick check revealed that there were no razors, tweezers, or NAIR in the exam room (freaks!) so I prayed that if the lump was something awful that was going to kill me, PLEASE let it happen now, before he comes back. No dice. Okay, think fast. Then it hit me. See at my age, when I lay down without the benefit of Wonderbra (or as I like to call it, “Hooter Hefter”) everything goes east and west. Get my drift? So I decided the thing to do would be to lay down with my arms squished up together to hold ‘the girls’ in place while keeping the gown closed with my hands over my fat stomach. Unfortunately, I could do nothing about my underarm fat sticking up on either side like twin Matterhorns, but hey, at least some of the crisis was averted.

Dr. McDreamy came back in and said in all seriousness, “I need you to raise your arm and fold it behind your head.”


“You know, just put your hand behind your head.”

Oh crapola! Alrighty then. Try to ignore the timberline in my armpit, oh and would you pick that up off the floor for me? It’s my right breast. Thanks so much!

“Well”, he said, “I’m not terribly concerned. I can barely feel it.”

(Through my underarm fat!).

“You need to have a mammogram, follow up, blah, blah, blah.”

So after all that drama and various other diagnostics, the good news is that the lump is nothing to be concerned about and my health is good. Of course, after all those machinations in the doctor’s office, I have permanent curvature of the spine and am looking for a blind chiropractor! Markie has apologized and tried to make up, but I am pretty sure I saw her talking to the Feds about the Witness Protection Program. Never hurts to be safe. I have decided to take better care of my health, and now, I live by yet another code. I always carry an emergency kit in my purse; deodorant, a razor, makeup, you know. The essentials. Oh, and duct tape! I can’t afford implants!

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Prepare for Bad Weather- Chardonnay and Timberlands!

Well "haayyy thayer y'all!" Here we are in the butt-puckerin' freezin' cold, or as they say in these here parts, fall! You just can't imagine how cold it is here. We have already seen snow. Well, okay, for Jerry, who spent part of his youth growing up in Binghamton, NY, frost, and for a Florida native like me (and Jenda) effing white out! We did actually have some snow the other day. About two inches, so for me, a blizzard. I must say, Jenda was SO excited to see snow. I didn't have the heart to deny her the chance to play in it, so I dressed her in all of her winter finery...thermal underwear, turtleneck, pullover sweater, two sweatshirts, sweatpants, blue jeans, three pairs of socks (mine), and, no lie, pink Timberland boots. Jerry, of course, volunteered to stay inside and make breakfast (Cheerios) so I got to go outside and play with Jenda in MY winter finery (long sleeved shirt, sweatpants that I bought at Target in Ft. Lauderdale that have all the warmth and substance of a kleenex, and Keds.)

Jenda had a wonderful time. She made snowballs and "Jenda tracks", you know, her footprints in the snow. Mommy made a trail of rocks behind her so that someone could find her frozen, dead, hypothermic body before the spring thaw. I noticed pretty quickly that we were the ONLY people outside on this glorious grey winter day. I could just imagine the neighbors...

"Hey, Mavis. C'meer and look at those damn fools! Why'n hell are they outside on a day lak this?"

"I dunno, Pootis. Muss be frum Floor-i-duh!!"

At any rate, the Cheerios were getting soggy, and being a very conscientious parent (afraid of what really good parents must think) I told Jenda we needed to go inside to have breakfast and then we could come back outside.

"Wanna play in the snow!"

Well, we have to eat breakfast and then we'll come back outside.

"NNNNOOOOOO......" and she took off.

I have to give props to Timberland, because the traction and speed that a two year old can get in those damn things is NOBODY'S business!! Let me just tell you that chasing a toddler in the snow is NOT for fat people who smoke (or even who DON'T smoke!) So I finally caught the little fiend, who screamed and cried like Naomi Campbell at a "Domestic Help Appreciation" rally. I showed her who's boss, though. I dragged her onto the porch and said in my best bossy mommy voice, "We are NOT going to play in the snow until after you have your beckoopuss!"

To which Jenda replied, "I've never liked you!"

I could hear the guffaws from the neighbors' houses.

After I assured Jenda that comedy is NOT for her (I don't know WHERE she gets this!) we went inside. Since my toes were black (who knows, I hope it's fungus and not frostbite!) I made Jerry go out and play. I decided to watch the local weather to see how long this blizzard would last. I mean, we could be snowed in for DAYS and I only had just so much Kendall Jackson left. I mean, c'mon!

Jerry came back in as I was bemoaning the fact that we had not yet purchased a generator. We could freeze to death in our own home if the power went out. It made my soggy black toes tingle just thinking about it!

"Nope, it's over. It'll melt by lunchtime and since we have a gas fireplace, we could still have warmth. Hate to burst your fatalistic little bubble, Toots!"

We'll just see about that. And that makes me wonder....why'n HAYULL did someone invent a gas fireplace? Where is the love? No more going out to a woodpile and praying that the brown recluses who live between the logs don't bite you. No more using a fireplace poker to push the logs around and setting fire with the loose spray of ashes to your semi-quasi-Orientalish rug from Target. Instead, you get a noxious smell from the gas fire, so bad that you just HAVE to open the flue, so that all of the heat and the gas haul ass up the chimney. I have to admit, I'm afraid of the damn thing. I refuse to light it because I just know I am gonna blow all straight to hell, or I am gonna leave the gas on and they'll find us in here unconscious with our tongues hanging out. Gas fireplaces are just too weird. It's like dyeing your own hair or hearing Lynyrd Skynyrd on ain't right, I tellya!

North Carolina natives sure do get freaky over a snow flurry. The locals run out to the store and buy up all of the bread. I just laugh at their panic-stricken faces as I walk to the wine aisle and buy all of the Kendall Jackson.

Our local newsgal reported that we would be experiencing "WINTRY CONDITIONS WITH A FROSTY, WINTRY MIX!" (Yeah in January, whatter the odds?!) In these parts, wintry mix means SNOW, ICE, AND PROBABLE DEATH!! Well, yeah, certain death if I run out of Chardonnay. She was almost in tears extolling the virtues of her brave comrades in the field, risking life and limb to reports these BIG KABUKI DANGEROUS WEATHER CONDITIONS (i.e., a snowflake.) I was waiting for her to recite their living wills on TV. Geeze....

As a veteran hurricane window-boarder-upper and champion storm Chardonnay drinker, I have to take issue with this drama. Wussies! While I am afraid for my life, freezing to death JUST HAS TO BE less painful than boarding up all of the windows and trying to see the satellite imagery of Hurricane XXXVVVIII on the four inch black and white TV from Wal-Mart that has been part of the hurricane preparedness kit since 1987. GET A GRIP!!

Here came Jerry and his voice of reason...."Look outside."

Sho 'nuff, the snow was pretty much gone, the roads were clear, and no one (us) had to sink their patio furniture in the pool to keep it from blowing away. In fact, it was clear enough to make a trip (send Jerry) to Food Lion to give our good friends Kendall Jackson and Alice White a ride home. Y'know, better to have a "wintry mix" of friends!!!

Trust me, I KNOW how to prepare for bad weather!!!

Monday, May 21, 2007

There's No Place Like Heaven for the Holidays!

Well hello again, or, as the locals say, "well hey there y'all!" Jerry, Jenda, and I have all got a cold. North Carolina has the craziest weather. I have never lived anyplace where you can experience spring, summer, fall, and winter in the same day! The state motto is "Esse Quam Vederi" (To Be Rather Than to Seem) but it is actually Latin for "Don't Like the Weather? Give it an Hour!" My own personal motto is now "Stupidus Relocatus from Floridus!"

So here we are, just having celebrated Christmas. Holidays here are so different from South Florida. Take Halloween, for instance. In my old neighborhood, all of the kids got dressed up, or should I say down since it was still 95 degrees with 80% humidity. All of the neighbors participated (some of the freaky ones dressed up, too!) and handed out tons of candy. For really cute toddler types like Jenda, all she had to do was smile and say "Trip oo tree" and she just racked up! After canvasing the neighborhood, we would take Jenda home and explain earnestly that some unscrupulous people wanted to hurt little kids and would actually stick bad things in the candy, like solicitations for home security systems and low cost no obligation term life insurance questionnaires, so that was why Mommy and Daddy had to eat all of the best tasting but most potentially dangerous candy! She was 18 months old and docile, so we had it made.

Fast forward to NC and things have changed. We were getting ready to close on the house this year at Halloween, so Jerry wanted to come trick or treating in the neighborhood where the house is, and I wanted to go to the Town of Kernersville Festival, where they close off all the streets and let the kids trick or treat downtown. Jerry and I went back and forth over this.

"I think we should get her used to the neighborhood, let her see the lay of the land!"

She's two for God's sake. It's Halloween, not a reconnaissance mission. And we have a thirty year mortgage. We're not going anywhere anytime soon. Let's go to the little rah-rah downtown.

"Well, we can try to fit in both." Then, looking in the local Kernersville paper, "The Tuesday News", so called because they put it out once a week....really! There's NO news here. "Here is something...a 'safe and fun-filled family alternative to Halloween'..."

Okay, I'll bite.

"One of the churches (60 in the 15 square miles that make up Kernersville, no shit!) is sponsoring 'A Trip Through Tribulation and Rapture...a safe and family oriented alternative to Halloween'..."

Blank stare, because even for someone like me, that's a pretty sick joke and I can't wait for the punchline. (Folks, it's May, I'm still waiting.)

Are you %@^#!*& kidding me? You're a horrible person and God left your sorry ass behind is supposed to be fun and not scary? That right there is enough to guarantee that all of these little small town kiddies wind up on drugs, or in therapy, or taking drugs with the therapist! That's effing sick!!!

"I just brought it up as a suggestion."

Let me make a suggestion. I suggest that you put that thought right out of your head, because if you take Jenda anywhere NEAR that $#!^, lemme tell you how fast YOU are going to see Jesus, 'kay?

So we went trick or treating in the neighborhood....Jenda marched bravely to each NC, they reach into their candy baskets and give little trick or treaters EXACTLY ONE PIECE of candy.....

Says Jenda.."I want more candy", to which the natives reply, "ain't she cute, bless her heart!" and then don't hand out anymore candy.....

So we go downtown. Local businesses are handing out goodies. Several of the local churches are manning booths downtown.

"IF YOU DIE TONIGHT, WILL YOU GO TO HEAVEN?" I must just look like pure hell, because several of them latch on to me to try to convert me. They are either too stupid to realize that I am beyond saving, or they are just gluttons for punishment.

Yes, I say, I will certainly go to Heaven. Right after I celebrate the equinox and sacrifice small animals on the altar of equal rights for all and the hope of women and blacks in the White House.

That pretty much stopped them cold. Jerry of course spent the evening keeping Jenda a safe distance away in case the thunderbolt ricocheted off of me and hit her by mistake.

Then, fast forward to Christmas. A happy, magical time. I counted down the days of the season not with an Advent calendar but by counting the daily visits from the other religious types determined to save my soul. (I SWEAR!!! They are like cats and old people.....they will NOT give up!) Since we were still getting settled, we really did not go all out with decorations....we had stockings, a fake tree that has seen better days....(back in the 90's), and plastic unbreakable ornaments that Jenda plucked off the tree and left for us in surprising places....(like the downstairs toilet.) Anyway, we didn't need to go crazy with lights. Jenda talked us into getting a plastic yard Santa, but that was it. Besides, we had the house down the street. Lemme tellya....

This is a relatively small two-story house where on any given day, there are three to four pickup trucks and two cars crammed in the driveway. I do know that the Manson Family is locked up, the Jonestown people are really no longer an issue, so I just can't IMAGINE who the hell all is living there, but I identify two of them as Cletus and Pootus. I have wonderful Christmas memories of sitting out on my front porch with a glass of Merlot (red, not white, in honor of the season!) watching these two yahoos get lickkered up to hang Christmas lights. Aah, yes...the sights, sounds, and smells of Christmas. The sight of Cletus falling from the second story when trying to loop lights from the house to the little dogwood tree ten feet from the house. The sound of him falling THUD! to the ground..."Hey...I'm all right (pronounced ah-ite!)....get me another beer, Pootus!" and the smell of burning hair and blown transformers as their winter wonderland went horribly wrong!

When they finally finished, it would seem that they achieved their goal of having their house be visible from outer space. Our house was the black hole....I can hear the folks on MIR...
("Crackle, buzz...look down to your left at Chez Pootus, a veritable winter your right...whatthe...well, I guess that's a fabled 'Black Hole'...")

The good news was that the Cletus/Pootus display saved me a huge electric bill, because I could literally keep my lights off and read and crochet by the light pouring in my windows from their house. I just sipped my Merlot and used their power.

Tell me I don't know how to celebrate the holidays!

Bless your hearts and love to you all!!

Sunday, May 20, 2007

Only Women Bleed

So hello again and happy New Year to y'all from North Carolina! We are just plugging along here in Kernersville. We are firmly ensconced in our new house and life is good! I don't know how much I have told you about the house but here I am to fill y'all in....

We bought a 3br/2.5 bath two story. I know I told you about the fact that we could not park our cars in the garage, but Jerry has fixed that. In fact, he called me at work the other day to let me know...

"Honey, I have a surprise for you!"

Oohhh...Platinum or Xanax?

"I totally cleaned out the garage...we can get our cars in it and it is spotless. Really...we can PARK in there!"

I raced home 6 hours early, who cares, I have vacation time, and LO! AND BEHOLD! The garage was spotless! I pulled my car into my spot and the earth moved, and angels wept! OMG, I said, this is incredible. You must have worked your ass off!! (Bear in mind that the day before, when he finally installed the garage door opener, he pushed the button to open and close it so many times the city almost cut off our utilities!)

Anyway, after admiring the clean garage for what seemed like hours (he never makes like this when I finally mop and dust!) I went into the kitchen from the door in the garage and stopped dead in my tracks.


Suffice it to say that we can no longer eat at our dining room table.

Jerry, I said, you didn't clean anything. You just relocated the shit from the garage to the dining room table. Blank stare, jaw on the floor.

"Honey, you DO understand!"

Meanwhile, Jenda got hold of all of my tax records and I can see me with the accountant..."Yes, this is our relocation paperwork and charitable donations with a nice Burnt Sienna, threaded through with Midnight Blue!"

So anyway, more about the house. It is a two-story house, a bit smaller than we wanted but really good for three people. I HATE the bathrooms because there is NO storage and there are no medicine cabinets. I need someplace to put my stuff...I can't have Jenda flushing another $50.00 Clinique Dramatically Different Moisturizing Lotion.... trust me, it could happen to you! So, I went to the local Target (more about this in another episode!) and bought a ready-to-hang medicine cabinet with a hinged door and mirror. Seemed easy enough to me, so of course I made Jerry hang it.... no more using that damn E-Coli excuse! Of course, he managed to chip a chunk out of the mirror, which I just KNEW I would find by accident barefoot getting out of the shower.

"Nah___ You'll be fine. It probably went behind the toilet somewhere. No biggie."

Not for you.... you never clean back there. Whatever.... I just know I have a date with a sliver of glass.

But time went on, and no glass, and I began to believe that I was wrong.

I was wrong.

Sho 'nuff, I WAS cleaning, but I was clear on the other end of the room. I was wiping down the counters and behind the faucet, I saw a small piece of plastic wedged behind the tap. Couldn't get it out with the cloth.... no biggie. I'll just dig it out with my finger.

Three thoughts went through my mind simultaneously...

1. That ain't (we use that word up here!) plastic.

2. Damn, that glass traveled far.

3. F*&%@#$ THAT HURTS!!!

I yelped and grabbed my finger, which had passed the bleeding stage and went straight to hemorrhaging. Jenda toddled into the room! Oh, thank God.... salvation!! Mommy!

"Got booboo?"

Yes...(bear in mind I was just BLEEDING LIKE CRAZY and could not find any band aids!) Go get Daddy!

"Need to go to Super Weenie Hut Junior Hospital?"

Yes...go get Daddy.

"Okay...I going...lookie, my shoe!"


Jenda left and was gone for some time. Bear in mind there were no clean towels in the bathroom (because no one lugs them upstairs besides me) and no band-aids and I was not ABOUT to bleed on the carpet.... believe me fingers bleed ALOT!!

So I waited for Jenda to come back with Jerry and I re-read my American Express Cardmember agreement to kill came Jenda, but no Jerry.

Jenda, where's Daddy?

Blank stare...."Dora?"



She left again and I solved Sudoku while I was waiting. I was losing blood, though, getting weaker. I used my waning strength to scream for Jerry, bang on the wall, and use a toothbrush bristle to write my living will on a square of Charmin.

FINALLY.... I was seeing black roses bloom before my eyes, I was fading fast. I collapsed next to the counter where Jerry found me, in a heap with my arm up, blood flowing down like a river, and my middle finger extended.

Y'all figure it out.

"Wassamatter?! Why are you bleeding? What didn't get any on the carpet!"


What came out was "Chewff! Grackle dack!" Severe blood loss is no laughing matter!

Jerry handled everything..."here, get up!" He man-handled me to my feet, turned on the cold water at full blast, and crammed my finger under the cold, nerve-damaging water.

I found my religion that night in the bathroom. My life flashed before my eyes and I prayed that a higher power would end my pain. I prayed for death under that hateful cold water as my bleeding finger went numb and fell off from the pain...and then.... a moment of clarity, a vision from God.

I kept this to myself and when I finally regained the ability to speak, I confronted Jerry and Jenda.

Jenda, I sent you to get Daddy sometime last week, and Jerry, I have been screaming and banging on the wall for days. What the &*^%?

"I swear, the acoustics are REEEEEELY good in this house. I never heard a thing...and Jenda came to ask me for a popsicle and I wouldn't let her have one without asking you first. So here I am."


So here I sit, writing to all of you. That vision from God? Do unto others. So, I took every roll of toilet paper out of the upstairs master bathroom. Jerry went in there some time ago, and I already gave Jenda a popsicle and turned up Nicktoons REEEEL loud.... let’s just test those acoustics and see...WAIT.... did y'all hear something?

NAHHHHH.... Me neither!

Bless your hearts.... love y'all!

Saturday, May 19, 2007

It must have been the chicken!

Hi all, or as they say in these parts, "hey there y'all!" Things are moving right along. We are getting moved into our house and Jerry and I are truly living the American Dream. We have a single family home with a two car garage that we can't get our cars in to!

For the latest, Jerry has been REALLY sick recently. It actually started back in September, and I suppose a better wife would have taken more drastic measures before now. She probably has alot of Platinum jewelry. Anyway, Jer called me at work the other night and asked when I would be home.

I'm leaving in 10 minutes. Why?

"I miss you."

We have an almost three year old toddler, so nookie is out of the question. Oh God, he's REALLY messed up!!! I should have taken him to the ER months ago, sweet Jesus I am sorry I will be right home.

So, I get home and Jerry is passed out on the sofa and Jenda has spread Cheerios all over the floor and Dora is just BLARING out of the DVD player. No different from any other night except Jerry has a temp of 104+. I take charge for the moment and decide that we are going to the hospital right now.

Guess what folks......

There is no BLEEPING hospital in Kernersville!!!!! I am sure that Arnold Ziffle is rooting around somewhere having drinks with the traveling company of "Deliverance" but no ER!!! Okay. Think fast.

We make the drive to Moses Cone Hospital in Greensboro, 40 minutes or so, and in we go, me wondering if Moses Cone is a person or some weird religious vortex.

"Do you have insurance and what's your emergency?"

Yes, I have crappy insurance, which is an emergency in and of itself. My husband is ill, and I am here with his sick ass and my two year old at almost 3 in the morning and I have no Platinum jewelry or Xanax.

"Bring your husband back. Y'all can come in with him." No offer of Xanax.

So in we go and they put Jerry in an examining room. In comes a very sweet nurse and a doctor. "What seems to be the problem?"

Says Jerry, "My stomach feels bloated, my lower back is killing me in my kidneys and down into my legs, and I am burning up. I feel like I have to throw up."

OMG I say, he's pregnant!!

(Nurse, single mother of three, works nights, pays all the bills, laughs. Doctor, pompous ass, trophy wife, sportscar, does not laugh. Dork!)

Jenda, who watches WAY TOO MUCH Spongebob Squarepants, says, Need to go to Super Weenie Hut Junior Hospital!

You go, girl!

So they run tests, CAT scans, more tests, ask questions, blah, blah. Doc comes back. "How is the pain?"

He's fine, I say. Turns out Doc wasn't talking to me.

"Do you need a painkiller?"

"No" says Jerry.

YES!! I scream! Give him painkillers, because if I am going to have to clean Cheerios up off the floor every night after work, ONE OF US had better be doped up!

Anyway, more tests, until I finally tell Jerry that Jenda and I will be sleeping in the car out in the parking lot, call my cell when they release you, pray we don't get hauled in for vagrancy, sayonara.

Out comes Jerry with the sun....what's wrong?

"They don't know, but they gave me some painkillers and antibiotics, blah, blah". Good thing he wasn't too messed up to drive.

Two days later the call came. Speakerphone. "Jerry....Good news and bad news...we ran tests and the results of the CAT scan show you don't have kidney stones. You do, however, have E COLI!

The wine glass dropped right out of my hands and shattered onto the floor. It's okay, though, it wasn't Waterford. But I hated to waste my Kendall Jackson syrah!


"Sir, do you have any idea where you might have gotten E Coli?"

We had no idea, but promised to think about it and call back. I grilled Jerry, no pun intended, and he assured petting zoos, no bagged spinach, no Taco Bell. Hmmm....

It occurred to me later....back in September, he bought a rotisserie chicken from Harris Teeter (honest to God that is the name of the store! Remember the little old lady who was run off the road in Ft. Lauderdale? If she had married the grocery store owner, she could be Tillie Tooter Teeter! HAHAHA!) Anyway, Jerry brought the chicken home, ripped off a drumstick and started munching. As I was cutting off some chicken for me and Jenda, I realized it was NOT FULLY COOKED!!! I warned Jerry, who, being a man, said, "I'll put it in the microwave. It'll be fine." Needless to say, Jenda and I did NOT eat it. I called the hospital back to tell them I had discovered the source.

" E Coli usually comes from beef....I don't think chicken would be the culprit."

Trust me, bless your heart, whatever. It was the chicken.

"Could it be anything else?"

I remembered that Jerry also drinks the tap water here. I tried it once. I spat it out. Too clean. In Florida, the water is just FULL of sulfites, minerals, bacteria, and all sorts of other crap that keeps your system healthy by giving it something to fight. I think the clean water here weakened Jerry's immune system, making him susceptible to E Coli from those raw-chicken-peddling-death merchants at Harris!@#%^ Teeter!!! And to think he used our VIC Card to buy the chicken! Damn!

The doctor pretty much assumed that I was insane or on painkillers and quickly got off the phone. I knew that I was on to something. I can report that Jerry is doing MUCH better. We have not eaten much chicken, but he still drinks the water. I am still on a strict regimen of Diet Coke during the day and Kendall Jackson Chardonnay thereafter. There are also some local vineyards in this area and the wines are pretty good. I am actually feeling a bit weak. I need a little more Kendall Jackson Chardonnay, for medicinal purposes......that's better! I am now so healthy I could just faint! Miss you all, love you bunches, and for God's sake, drink more wine and eat less raw chicken!! Bless your hearts!!!

Friday, May 18, 2007

Livin' In the City

Hi again from NC! Here is the latest.

Jerry and I put an offer on a house today. It's located in Kernersville, home of Prissy Polly's Pig Pickin' bbq....from my last email. I think it is a good offer, so we are waiting to hear. Our agent was so pleased with herself (to be finally getting rid of us!) She said, beaming, "I am asking that they leave all of the appliances!"

Okay....leave them where?

"In the house."

Where the hell else would they leave them? Blank stare...I do alot of that here.

"Bless your heart! Appliances are personal property. People usually take them when they move."

Run, Toto. We're not in South Florida anymore.

"I'll give you a call Monday to let you know what the sellers say."

Okay. Call me on the cell. I'll be at Home Depot buying appliances.

So we leave, and I go on to lunch, then work. Jerry's parents have stopped in on their way to Maggie Valley, NC, where the really rich people have homes. Great to see them, except they picked the weekend of homecoming AND the Chrysler Classic, so of course the nearest hotel room is in Atlanta. I asked Jerry where they would be staying.

"With us, in our apartment, duh!"

Back to my blank stare. Four adults, one toddler on sugar high (thanks, gramps!) and one bathroom. Great idea, duh!

Of course, had to take said inlaws to Prissy Polly's. Armed with the bbq knowledge that Jerry and I so painstakingly gleaned, they knew to order Lexington, except Gramps, who ordered chili (more blank stares, but now I was not alone!) There was our friend from the first visit.

Are you from Kernersville? We are relocating you like it?

"Yeah, but I'm not from these parts. I'm from Cain (KAAAYYUN.) Do y'all know KAAAYYUN?"

Other than the brother of AAAYYYBULL, no.

"Well it's reeeeyulll small, we didn't have cable tv or nothin', so that's why I like it here, cuz this here's a city."

(I can report that bbq spit from your mouth projectile fashion WILL come off of latex paint. Clothes are another matter altogether.)

"Where y'all from?"

Ft. Lauderdale.

Sympathetic smile reserved for the feeble minded. "Bless your heart. This must seem like kinda a small town to y'all!"

No blank stare this time. I now know that you can put someone down, condescend, or be "jinuwine" long as you sugar coat it with "Bless your heart", well, no hard feelings. I am learning.

Truly, bless your hearts. I love and miss you terribly!!!!
Greetings from Greensboro, NC! I must say it is really nice here and the bbq is just primo! I now know the difference between EASTERN and LEXINGTON and gosh did I learn that quick.

Jerry and I went to (no lie) Prissy Polly's Pig Pickin' Barbeque for lunch. This very sweet girl asked for our order and we got the bbq sandwich plate. She asked..."y'allwanteasternerlexinton" to which I replied, "whatthe...?"

So she said, "do yall wont (pronounced won't) eastern er lexington" so Jerry and I just looked at each other, then looked blankly at her. She must have assumed pretty quickly that we were retarded, because she said, "dooooo yahllll wonnnnttt EASTERN or LEXINGTON?"

Once we assured her we could in fact speak English, we were able to procure some rather good bbq. We went back recently, and there was the same girl, and they had posted signs at the cash register defining the difference between Eastern and Lexington...eastern is a vinegar base and lex is a tomato base. Anyway, I was encouraged that Jerry and I were able to be change agents at the bbq joint, in spite of the fact that the town of Kernersville thnks we should be run out of town on a rail....if you ever visit these here parts, you better know your 'que, or the NC natives'll kick your ass!