The Limo (click here)

This is the "hooptie" that the boys HAD to contend with for their "night on the town" 

Honey and Tiger were LOVING the sweet ride! 

The boys leaving for the "BIG PARTY". I am assured by all there that Honey will not go to jail (or at least I wouldn't KNOW he went to jail) 

Cold Wax......Originally Used in Torture Camps

OK - for the record - this is NOT me. I have no clue who this poor soul is but I almost wet my pants reading about her ordeal.


One Woman's Tale of Woe

All hair removal methods have tricked women with their promises of easy, painless removal - The epilady, scissors, razors, Nair and now...the wax. My night began as any other normal weeknight. Come home, fix dinner, play with the kids. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours: "Maybe I should pull the waxing kit out of the medicine cabinet." So I headed to the site of my demise: the bathroom. It was one of those "cold wax" kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm and you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else) and you pull the hair right off. No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be? I mean, I'm not a genius, but I am mechanically inclined enough to figure this out. (YA THINK!?!)

So I pull one of the thin strips out. Its two strips facing each other stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, my genius kicks in so I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. ("Cold wax," yeah...right!) I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around it tight and pull. It works! OK, so it wasn't the best feeling, but it wasn't too bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me! I am She-rah, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of smooth skin extraordinaire.

With my next wax strip I move north. After checking on the kids, I sneak back into the bathroom, for the ultimate hair fighting championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet. Using the same procedure, I apply the was strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering the right half of my vagina and stretching down to the inside of my butt cheek (Yes, it was a long strip) I inhale deeply and brace myself....RRRRIIIPPP!!!!

I'm blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!....OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!! Vision returning, I notice that I've only managed to pull off half the strip. CRAP!!! Another deep breath and RRIIPP!! Everything is swirly and spotted. I think I may pass out...must stay conscious...Do I hear crashing drums??? Breathe, breathe...OK, back to normal.

I want to see my trophy - a wax covered strip, the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip! There's no hair on it. Where is the hair??? WHERE IS THE WAX??? Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair. The hair that should be on the strip. I touch. I am touching wax. CRAP! I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair.

Then I make the next BIG mistake...remember my foot is still propped up on the toilet? I know I need to do something. So I put my foot down.
CRAP!!!!!!!! I hear the slamming of a cell door. Vagina? Sealed shut! Butt??
Sealed shut!

I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself "Please don't let me get the urge to poop. My head may pop off!"
What can I do to melt the wax? Hot water!! Hot water melts wax!! I'll run the hottest water I can stand into the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax-covered bits and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off, right??? WRONG!!!!!!!

I get in the tub - the water is slightly hotter than that used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment - I sit. Now, the only thing worse than having your nether regions glued together, is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub...in scalding hot water. Which, by the way, doesn't melt cold wax. So, now I'm stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had cement-epoxied myself to the porcelain!! God bless the man who had convinced me a few months ago to have a phone put in the bathroom!!!!!


I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. It's a very good conversation starter... "So, my butt and who-ha are glued together to the bottom of the tub!" There is a slight pause. She doesn't know any secret tricks for removal but she does try to hide her laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located, "Are we talking cheeks or hole or who-ha?" She's laughing out loud by now...I can hear her. I give her the rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box. YEAH!!!!! Right!! I should be the joke of someone else's night.

I resort to scraping the wax off with a razor. Nothing feels better then to have your girlie goodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water and then dry-shaving the sticky wax off!! By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and I'm pretty sure I'm going to need Post-Traumatic Stress counseling for this event.

My friend is still talking with me when I finally see my saving grace....the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax. What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on and OH MY GOD!!!!!!! The scream probably woke the kids and scared the dickens out of my friend. It's sooo painful, but I really don't care. "IT WORKS!! It works!!" I get a hearty congratulations from my friend and she hangs up. I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief and despair....THE HAIR IS STILL THERE...ALL OF IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!. So I recklessly shave it off. Heck, I'm numb by now. Nothing hurts. I could have amputated my own leg at this point and wouldn't have known it until the following morning!!

After you dry your eyes (and your pants) ask yourslef this....WHY do we (women) do this kind of thing? We know that it's stupid. Hell, half of us can't stand to pull a bandaid off fast so why would we dare smear any type of adhesive on our nether regions and yank?!?! I'll tell you why - MEN. We pluck, shave, bleach, rip and electorcute any stray hair we find so that men will find us attractive. Meanwhile, most men have hair growing out of every oraface and we are supposed to find it "manly". Whatever! Girls, next time your boyfriend or husband rubs your legs and says "bout time to wax don't cha think" just reach over and yank out a hand full of chest hair. I bet it will be the last time he mentions your hair removal procedures.

A Moment of Silence Please

May we please have a moment of silence for those recently done passed…

Punkin, Fuzzy and Superchicken

I swear! They were in today's CA.

PMS

Q: How many women with PMS does it take to change a light bulb?

A: One!!! ONLY ONE!!!! And do you know WHY? Because no one else in this house knows HOW to change a light bulb! They don't even know that the bulb is BURNED OUT!! They'd sit there in the dark for THREE DAYS before they figured it out!! And, once they figured it out, they wouldn't be able to find the light bulbs despite the fact they've been in the SAME CUPBOARD for the past 13 YEARS! But if they did, by some miracle of God, actually find the bulbs 2 DAYS LATER, the chair they dragged to stand on to change the STUPID light bulb would STILL BE IN THE SAME SPOT!!!!! AND UNDERNEATH IT WOULD BE THE WRAPPER THE STUPID LIGHT BULBS CAME IN!!! BECAUSE NO ONE EVER CARRIES OUT THE GARBAGE!!!! IT'S A WONDER WE HAVEN'T ALL SUFFOCATED FROM THE PILES OF GARBAGE THAT ARE A FOOT DEEP THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE HOUSE!! IT WOULD TAKE AN ARMY TO CLEAN THIS DAMNED HOUSE!


I'm sorry. What was your question?

This Is a Funny Site

OK - this site is too funny and too true. Click on the title above to get there. There is quite a bit of foul language so if that offends you, don't click the link.

My New Jeep Makes Me Sick

I will be danged if riding around in a vehicle with COLD air hasn't given me a sore throat. I told Honey that the car he bought makes me sick...........he was offended. The way my luck goes, just about the time that my body gets used to having air conditioning the compressor will go out and I will catch Pneumonia.

Cheerleading is Dangerous

Baby Girl sustained her first sports related injury last night. I’ve mentioned that she is cheering for the first time this year and loving it. Well, she has practice on Tuesday’s and Thursday’s from 6 – 7:45p. They are getting ready for football season and all of the girls are working really hard. Baby Girl is the “top” for all stunts because she is the smallest on the squad. Last night, she was formally introduced to the pain of a sports related injury. She didn’t fall off the pyramid or twist and ankle doing jumps. No, my Baby Girl got her hand slammed in a car door after practice.

I arrived to pick her up from practice at 7:45p. I had to talk to the sponsor and get her shoes, socks, mid-drift (huh – she’s 8), drop off $25 for “cheer mom” shirts, $25 for “cheer dad” shirts, $10 for “spirit shirt”, $17 for a decal to stick on my car to let everyone know that I am stupid enough to invest butt loads of money for an 8 year old to cheer and $12 for building rental so that the girls don’t die of heat stroke practicing outside. So, there I was doling out cash and getting the rundown on when she is supposed to wear her cheer shoes when I heard the most blood curdling scream.

I turned around in time to see my daughter clutching her hand and screaming while one of the dads tried to comfort her. I ran (yes, I can run) across the parking lot to find that her hand had been accidentally slammed in the door by one of her teammates. Baby Girl was hysterical! I finally got her to let me look at it and there was a long, deep indention across the top of her right hand that matched the door latch. One of the other moms had the ice from her coke left so I dumped it out and held it on Baby Girl’s hand and started talking to her to calm her down.

Meanwhile – the dad is about to have a breakdown. It was his car door in which her hand got slammed and it was his child that did the slamming. I really thought he was going to cry – he was so concerned and stood there wringing his hands saying, “I am so sorry, I am so sorry”. He had already run and gotten her a bag of ice for her hand and then he carried her to the car. I assured him she would be fine but the poor guy was just so upset.

On the way home she was complaining that she couldn’t move her fingers. Now, the first question I asked her when this happened was if she felt like she was going to throw up – the first sign of a broken bone. She said no. So, the logical side of me that has had more than my share of injuries, knew it wasn’t broken but the mother side of me would rather be safe than sorry. Not to mention that she is a drama queen and I knew that she wasn’t going to believe it wasn’t broken until someone in a white coat told her so. So, I headed to the hospital.

We arrived at the hospital with our dripping bag of ice water and checked in at the desk. Baby Girl informed the intake nurse that her hand was broken. We filled out paperwork and had a seat in the waiting room. Baby Girl informed me that she wanted a pink cast – or maybe green to match her uniform. I told her we needed to wait for the doctor to decide. She then informed me that she had gotten the hand brace (stole it from Nana’s yard sale stuff a few weeks ago) because she “saw this coming”. Oh the drama! Anyway, we went to triage and they took her blood pressure with the automatic cuff which she said was cutting her arm off. Good thing we were in a hospital. They gave her a Loratab (sp?) for the “severe pain” and we waited some more and some more and some more. We finally got back to the “room” which was the hallway in the Peds ER and waited some more. While we were there we saw a child with a gash in his head about 5 inches long, another child with a crushed toe getting a cast, a teen come in on a stretcher with a huge wrapping on his leg and blood everywhere, a child getting stitches to a gash on his chest and we listened to another child vomit for 4 hours. The there was us with basically a busted blood vessel and an overactive sense of the dramatic. I really felt kind of stupid sitting there but again – better safe than sorry.

We finally got to go back for x-rays where Baby Girl informed the nurse that her hand was broken and she wanted a pink cast. The nurse told her we would have to wait and see what the doctor said to which she replied, “that’s what my mamma said”. Like, Dang! I guess she got to you too. We finished the x-rays and went back to our hall and waited. FINALLY the doctor came over and told us that her hand wasn’t broken (duh) but that she was going to put her in a sling for a few days and she was on “restrictive duty” until she was pain free. Ummmm – am I the only person that has been watching her use her hand to fluff her pillow, readjust herself on the bench and move it in every direction to get x-rays? I would say she is pain free now but I’m only a mother and I didn’t go to medical school so I’m sure I’m an idiot.

We left the hospital with our sling and our prescription for Loratab. We hadn’t eaten dinner yet so we pulled through McDonald’s to get some food. She said she needed “something easy to eat with my left hand” so instead of her normal Big Mac, she got two hamburgers and an order of fries (which she ate with her right hand). We got home extremely late and she was exhausted. She got in bed and was out in 2 minutes.

This morning, I kept her home from school. Not because of her arm but because she’d only had like 5 hours sleep and she requires at least 10 hours to even function. When she finally emerged from her room, with her sling and her hospital bracelets still on her arm she requested ice cream for breakfast. I explained that she is not sick and her arm isn’t broken so she is NOT having ice cream for breakfast. “Fine – I guess I’ll just have a bagel then” is her response.

I got a call from the mother of the “slammer” to check on Baby Girl. I assured her that everything was fine. She was almost as upset as the dad. She wanted to help pay the bills or something and I told her no that it was an accident and that I have good insurance. So, she got my address so that she can “send her something”. Oh Lord – the child is going to start slamming body parts in doors to get balloons now.

I’m very glad that Baby Girl didn’t sustain a serious injury but I think I would be way more compassionate if she had. I mean I have a really hard time sympathizing with someone who wears a sling for a busted blood vessel. Don’t get me wrong, I know it hurt and I know it scared her and in the moment, I was extremely compassionate and loving. But today…………yeah, the going from romping in the floor and wrestling with the dog to sitting on the couch in a sling propped up on 3 pillows is really starting to get old. When she tells me how much her hand hurts I want so badly to say, “oh yeah, well if you think a smashed hand hurts just wait until you get an episiotomy!” If I make it to her 14th birthday it will be a miracle!

Ding Dong the Jeep is Dead

I am sad to inform you that the POS Jeep is dead. She developed a bad cough over the weekend and succumbed to her disease around 7:20am yesterday. I know she will be missed as she was the source of countless days of amusement for all who knew her. I don’t know if she was in pain but she did go quickly. She will be laid to rest this evening. The family requests that all gifts be sent to the Jeep Electrical Research Foundation.

PARENTAL ADVISORY:
The following is a graphic account of her death. If there are minors in the room, this would be a good time to cover their ears so they don’t think you’ve gone crazy when you start laughing.

As everyone knows the POS Jeep was called that for a reason. It had no air, the side mirror was busted, there was a crack in the windshield, the power windows only worked if you held the wires together with pliers, the tires were bald, the headliner drooped, there was a power steering leak, an oil leak and the tags were expired. A few months ago I replaced the distributor wires and the fuel pump to the tune of $1000. The vehicle was only worth about $37 so you can see why I decided that I wasn’t going to spend another dime on it. Two months ago, I paid it off and was LOVING not having a car note. You know what that means…..

Everyone also knows that I procrastinate like no other human on the planet. Baby Girl started school yesterday morning but I hadn’t gotten her registered. Not due to procrastination as I went on the designated registration date but I failed to bring the pint of blood and satellite photo of my home required to get her registered in a Shelby County School. So, at 7am I drove to my office to get the required paperwork so that my child could attend the 3rd grade.

Now, let me preface this with some background from the weekend. Honey and I went loaded up Bug and Baby Girl Sunday morning and went to Church. We took separate vehicles because he had to leave straight from Church and drive to Missouri to take the Bug back to her mother. On the way to Church, the POS started acting up a bit. It would rev to 5000rpms while losing power and dropping my speed to 40mph. After Church, I drove home without incident and chocked it up to the fact that my car is evil and it didn’t want to go to Church. Later on that day I had some errands to run and it did it again (it obviously doesn’t like errand running either). I checked the transmission fluid and it was low so I added some. I checked the oil –it was fine. I checked every fluid I know to check and they were all fine. Baby girl and I continued to run our errands without any more problems so I figured the transmission fluid has worked. WRONG!

I left my house on Monday at 7am so that I could get back before Honey had to leave for work and I could have Baby Girl at the school by 8am (school starts at 9a). I drove to my office with no problems. I ran in and collected the 426 documents required to prove that I still live in the same house I did last year. The same documentation that they copied last year and put in her file. (I guess this means that all that “permanent record following you for life” really is a load of crap) I get back in my car –its 7:10 – I’m doing good. I leave my office and pull onto G’Town Parkway to get on the Interstate. I pulled up to the red light and stopped………..and so did my POS. I tried to crank it but it wouldn’t stay cranked. I started praying, “Please God, it is Monday and about to be rush hour – PLEASE don’t make me be stranded in the middle of G’Town Parkway.” I picked up the phone to call Honey and realized that I’d failed to charge the battery so it was dead. I was now praying harder and repeatedly trying to start my car. I FINALLY got it cranked just as traffic broke and I gunned it. The Jeep lurched forward and I was on the Interstate! Now, this car is bucking me like an unbroken bronco and my max speed is about 50mph. I kept the peddle to the floor the entire ¼ mile to my exit. As I got off the Interstate, it died again but I managed to coast into the BP and park. I get 35 cents out of my purse and walk over to the payphone to call Honey. I put my money in……nothing. I hit the coin return, reinsert my money and still….nothing. I start to have vending machine flashbacks and start to wonder what the penalty is for kicking the crap out of a pay phone. I know you’re not supposed to mess with mailboxes but I’m fairly certain pay phones don’t fall into the same category. Just as I am about to rip the handset out of this stupid box I notice the sticker……….”Local calls 50 cents – no change provided”.

OK – two things puzzled me here. First of all – when did pay phones start costing 50 cents? I was shocked. But what puzzled me the most was “no change provided”. Exactly what kind of coins would you put in a pay phone that costs 50 cents that would require change? I mean, I guess if you had a quarter and 3 dimes you would require change, but how many people don’t have two quarters or a combination of coins that add up to exactly 50 cents? And truthfully, are there really enough people on the planet that have complained about not receiving a nickel’s worth of change to require a disclaimer sticker? To me, if in this day and age, if you are desperate enough to have to use a PUBLIC phone – a nickel really isn’t going to be at the top of your list of concerns.

Back to my story. Honey takes me home but he has to get to work by 8a. I call Nana and ask if I can borrow TJ’s car to take Baby Girl to school. TJ has a Miata that hasn’t been driven in a while because she doesn’t currently have a license. Therefore, the tags on the Miata expired in June. I told Nana that I didn’t care, I would risk a ticket. Now, the Miata doesn’t have air or a radio BUT is has a drop top so we were good to go. Baby Girl was thrilled to be going to school in a convertible. I got her ready, gathered my stuff and out we went to go to school.

I am 5’4” and the Miata is about 2’8”. I opened the door to get in and about broke my neck trying to “break my fall”. I didn’t think my butt was ever going to hit that seat! We cruised to school unencumbered by police and got Baby Girl registered for the 3rd grade. I then went on to my office, praying all the way that no cops pulled up behind me. I mean, what cop is going to buy, “well officer, my POS blew up this morning and even though I’d known for a month when I was supposed to register my child for school, I hadn’t done it so I had to drive an illegal car in order to keep her from missing out on her education. I was trying to protect the tax payers from having to support her when she winds up being an illiterate. Oh, why am I now at work? Well, I have to go to work in order to pay the taxes that support other illiterates whose parents failed to register them for school. Yes sir, I am single handedly trying to break the cycle and stamp out illiteracy.” See what I’m saying……..not a good argument,

30 minutes after I arrive at my office the phone rings and its Honey. He’s bought me a new vehicle and I need to come with him to sign some paperwork. He will be at my office in 10 minutes. I wait and answer some emails, take a few phone calls and wait some more. I finally get the call that he is outside. I walk outside to see my Honey sitting in the passenger seat of a beautiful, white…………JEEP!!!! I almost fell over. He has hated my Jeep since day one and has said 1000 times that I would never own another one but there she sat – pretty as a picture. I drove it back to the lot with him, signed some paperwork and drove back to the office in my new Jeep…….with AIR, working windows, no visor banging me in the head, no headliner drooping and it even has a CD player!!! I drove all the way back to my office with the air on full blast while I repeatedly rolled my windows up and down like some kind of cave person that had never seen such advanced technology.

So, while we are saddened to see the POS go (yeah, right), we are rejoicing in the fact that I now have a REAL vehicle that is safe, clean and cool. We are also grateful to God for allowing me to make it to the BP and not leaving me to die in the middle of G’Town Parkway during rush hour traffic. I’ve learned to make sure my cell phone is ALWAYS charged and to carry exact change for a pay phone “just in case”. But mostly, I am so glad that Baby Girl is now officially a 3rd grader and not roaming the streets, begging for money so that she can get “hooked on phonics”.

Planning My Wedding

Call off the dogs! I'm not dead just trying to plan my wedding and move 300 people to a new building. I PROMISE I will have a new post this week. Lots has been happening. Bug has been here for 2 weeks and has a new interesting habit. Honey and I had our 1st Anniversary, Baby Girl is getting ready to go back to school and Nugget is in heat AGAIN. Anyway - I swear I will have at least one new post before Friday so quit sending the police to my house.

Directions to the Archives.......

Someone asked "where are the archives". If you are having trouble finding them.........look on the sidebar to the right of the screen.............now scroll down. Do you see the word Archives? That's them! They are filed by week - start with the earliest date and work your way towards the present.

Don't Forget to Read the Archives

There are alot of folks checking out this blog now and I wanted to remind everyone to READ THE ARCHIVES! If you like the stories I tell you really need to look at some of the first. The very first post is titled Child Support. Since this is an ongoing saga of my life with my family and neighbors, you have to read the first posts to understand who all of these people are. If you don't check them out you are really missing out on a LOT of funny stuff.

My Honey, Cruise Control & Fried Desserts

I love My Honey more that words can express but last night……..if I’d been in the same room with him I probably would’ve caught an assault charge.

I’ve told you that Honey drives a beautiful Dodge Ram 1500. I’ve also mentioned that I drive a POS Jeep Grand Cherokee. Now – in case it’s not obvious – Honey is a M-A-N. That means that he feels that certain things are a necessity in a vehicle…..like T.V., satellite radio, a radar detector, room service…….you name it, it’s a necessity. Anyway, last night he was on his way to a job in Arkansas and he called me to let me know that he “was going to have to get a new truck”. I am immediately concerned as I take this to mean that the truck he currently owns has either been stolen or is totaled. I ask if he is ok. “Yes, I’m fine but my cruise control isn’t working”. WHAT!?!?! I listened to him complain about his non-working cruise control for about two minutes without saying a word. He finally said, “Are you there?” Oh yeah – I was there.

I said, “Do you realize that you are talking to a person that drives a 1994 Jeep with bald tires, no air and windows that have to be hot-wired in order to roll them up or down? Not to mention the fact that the clip on my driver’s side visor is broken so every time I turn it smacks me in the head and the shocks on my back hatch don’t work half the time so the door tries to decapitate me every time I open it?!?! And you have the nerve to call me and tell me that YOU need a new vehicle because your CRUISE CONTROL DOESN’T WORK!?!?!? PUSH THE FRUGGIN PEDAL AND QUIT YOUR WHINING!”

For a moment the phone was silent then I heard, “Uhhh, I guess my cruise control isn’t really a big deal in comparison. Besides, I think it’s still under warranty.” OMG – the dang thing is under warranty and he is talking about a new truck……….I said, “You are so pretty and I love you so much” (code for – you are really on my nerves) and hung up the phone.

I called Erin (his sister – the lawyer) to find out what the max sentence for assault was. She said that it would be better if I only batter him because then I would win my torte. Huh? I think Erin was drunk. Here I was talking about physically abusing her brother and all she could think about was some kind of deep fried dessert? I think all of those law classes have finally melted her brain.

This is Baby Girl's room. I built her a loft so she would have more floor space. I worked for almost a week painting and building it all by myself in colors specified by her. Pretty cool huh?

Imagine my suprise when I walked in and saw that she had "decorated" her ceiling. These are her hand prints and that's not paint. It's purple SUNSCREEN. You know the kind that is supposed to vanish when rubbed in.....yeah - that only works on skin. 

My Name in Print....I Am Somebody Now!

If you haven't read your Commercial Appeal today - make sure to check out the story on the front page of the M section. It's called Cyberspace Confessional and my little blog here is mentioned. Keep on reading.......maybe on day we will be famous :)

More Pics of the Humans

We had a Birthday BBQ for Erin at her home last weekend. I wanted to post a few pictures of some more of the stars of this show that I hadn't introduced you to visually yet.

This is Nelly - can you see why I call him that? 

This is Erin - she is the Princess of whatever Mom is the Queen of. 

Mom - she claims to be the Queen of something but we're not exactly sure what. 

Meet Tiger. He is very serious about his cupcakes. 

Fabio REALLY enjoyed the ribs 

Good news kids! Santa delivers no matter where you live - even if it's behind a dumpster. I took this picture on Airways while driving to Erin's Birthday BBQ. 

Do YOU Have a Friend Like This?

All women have that one true friend that will hold her hair when she “gets sick”. But how many of you have a friend that will hold your hair while you pick up poop? Baby girl has that kind of friendship with Prissy. See below.

Prissy holding Baby Girl's hair, the bag and her breath. 

"There's some more behind you" 

NASTY!!! 

I Want To Be a Sterotype

I got a really interesting email on Friday. It was a guy from the Commercial Appeal who is doing a story on bloggers in Memphis. He is writing about people that “post details of their lives online and why they do it”. I was really excited – I mean it’s kind of cool to be included in something like that. Although, after speaking to him this morning I realized that I will probably come off as some crazy woman sitting in her darkened, smoke-filled home surrounded by 50 cats with a cigarette hanging out of one side of my mouth, in my housecoat with my knee highs rolled down to my fuzzy slippers, grumbling about how I am surrounded by freaks………HA!!

So, if any of you read it – make sure you don’t judge too quickly. I may blog about you next.

Odds and Ends

Nothing major has been happening lately. Baby Girl has been laying low since the “poop incident” so she’s not giving me much material. The neighbors have been relatively quiet but the weekend is coming so I’m SURE I’ll have something good on Monday. In the meantime I thought I would just share a few little things that have happened but don’t really warrant an entire post.

Let’s see……….a few months ago I had a problem with my toilet draining very slowly. Honey and I poured every chemical known to man in it, we plunged, we rammed coat hangers in it, and we even bought an auger and one of those new plungers that shoots CO2 cartridges (literally blowing the crap out of the pipes). None of it worked. I finally gave in and called the plumber. They brought their auger and their plungers and beat on my toilet for about an hour before they came schlepping down the hall with my potty in a plastic bag and out the front door. Needless to say I was mortified when I went outside to see a grown man bent over my toilet in the middle of the front yard in the middle of the day with his crack exposed to the world. Upon investigation they found that a small porcelain shoe had been lodged in there. This would be the porcelain shoe that I told Honey 50 times NOT to set on the back of the toilet because it could fall in.

Cost of shoe - $15
Cost of plumber - $103
Getting to say “I told you so” – Priceless

Last week one of my extremely intelligent technicians locked his keys in his truck………while it was running and he AC was on full blast. Being the stubborn man that he is, he refused to call a locksmith because he had an extra set of keys…….at home…….an hour away. So, his truck ran in the parking lot for 2 ½ hours while he got someone to come pick him up, drive to BFE to get the keys and then back to the office. I bet 30 people knocked on our door to let us know that he’d left his truck running. DUHHH!! I mean, I can see where you might forget to turn your lights off but you don’t just forget to turn the car off……………well, unless you’re this guy.

A few weeks ago Diamond managed to back her Expedition into one of those yellow concrete “barriers” that surround light poles in parking lots. Now, she has recently given birth and she had two boys under two in the vehicle at the time so I can see where she might get distracted. The funny part is – her car has one of those “back-up alerts” that beeps LOUDLY when something is behind the vehicle so that you DON”T HIT IT. When she called and told me about it I asked if the alarm had gone off and she said….and I’m not lying…..”Well yeah but I couldn’t see anything so I thought it was just messing with me”. RIGHT – Ford makes a vehicle with a sense of humor.

Honey has been working at night this week and is getting home between 3:30a and 5a so he’s been sleeping during the day. Yesterday morning when Baby Girl got up I told her to try and be quiet because Daddy was sleeping. Later that afternoon she walks into the kitchen where Honey and I were talking and said, “Hi Daddy, are you awake now?” Bless her heart.

A week or so ago one of my other techs called me at about 7am to let me know he would be late to work that morning because he’d hurt his back……….while hitting the snooze button on the alarm clock. Bless his heart.

Well, that’s really all I have right now. We will be having birthday dinner with Erin, Tiger, Mom and Nelly this weekend so I’m sure Monday will be a great post. Have a great weekend.

Honey & his girls 

Nugget in her "panties" - she ate them 

Baby Girl & Snow Boy (He just LOVES the Elvis Shades - NOT!!) 

Salty 

Papa & BB (I love to catch people chewing) 

Nana (blonde), Amy (on the phone), Sally (eating) and T.J. 

Bug & Prissy (aka CH #2) 

They Really Do Exist

I actually had someone ask me recently if all of the people I write about exist. Well, they do and I can prove it. I've uploaded several pictures of some of the real live humans. Now that I know how to post pictures, I will start trying to capture some of the crazy stuff that goes on around here so you can get the full visual experience of what I endure on a daily basis.

Man - I wish I had thought to snap a shot of that orange bag on my roof! Oh well, there's always next time.

Me & Bug 

My Honey 

Sparky 

Baby Girl (aka CH#1) 

The Poop Scoop Boogie

I was beginning to think that my life was becoming “normal”. I was starting to search my past to find something interesting to write about. I was trying to remember stories from High School, Church, daycare, and anything that would embarrass my brother when Baby Girl came through for me. Thank Heaven for little girls.

We decided a few weeks ago that it was time for Baby Girl to start earning an allowance and learn the value of money. We’re hoping that this will encourage her to take care of her stuff and keep her room clean. Previously she couldn’t care less if her stuff got broken because she had no clue how much anything costs. So, Honey and I decided that she could earn $10 a week by picking up after the dogs in the yard. Yes, she is a human pooper scooper.

Now, I do not just send her out there with 2 squares of toilet paper and tell her to wash up when she is through. She has a tools and a system and she has become quite proficient. Every evening after all of the dogs have gone outside, she dons her latex gloves, grabs her paper towels and an orange newspaper bag and heads to one corner of the yard. She works meticulously going back and forth so she doesn’t miss any of the lovely presents left by our pooches. Once she has picked it all up, she tosses her paper towels and gloves into the bag, ties it up and chunks it in the big green garbage can. In the beginning it took her 30 minutes to clean up my postage stamp yard but now she can get it done in less than 5 minutes. She’s making $10 for 35 minutes worth of work so I don’t want to hear anybody tell me how unfair it is (Mother). She has even gotten so smart as to enlist the help of Prissy (she wears gloves and holds the bag) and doesn’t even give her a cut of the cash. I’d say she’s pretty dang smart.

Last night Baby Girl went out to do her chore (as she calls it). I was in the garage watching the thing about the runaway bride (which is a subject I will touch on another time). After about 30 minutes, I realized that Baby Girl and Prissy were being extremely quiet which usually signals trouble. I went outside to check on them and found Baby Girl standing on the side yard just bawling. I asked her what was wrong……. I wasn’t ready for her response. She took a deep breath and through her tears related the following….

“I cleaned up the poop and was taking it to the garbage can on the curb. I was throwing it up in the air and……..” I immediately start looking her up and down because I just KNOW that the bag has busted on her and she is covered in feces. “It landed on the roof.” Huh?? Not what I was expecting and I immediately started to giggle. “We tried to get it down but we couldn’t reach it so we got the water hose and tried to spray it off but it just got farther away. We tried to stand in the chairs but we still couldn’t get it. Now I can’t get the water hose turned off and the front yard is flooded and Daddy is going to be so mad”. By this time, I am almost laying on the ground. I look down the side of the house to see two of my patio chair positioned under a tiny visible corner of the orange plastic bag that was hanging off the edge of the roof approximately 25 feet in the air. How they thought that my patio chairs would make them grow 23 feet or why they thoght playing catch with a bag of crap would be fun is something only they can explain.

I walked down the side of the house, wiping my tears and trying to catch my breath, and turned off the hose. I brought the chairs back to the patio and sat down. Baby Girl was still crying. I was still laughing and the more I laughed the more confused she became. She finally asked, “Am I in trouble?” I told her that I didn’t know what the punishment was for accidentally flinging a bag of dog poop onto the roof and then flooding the yard in an attempt to knock it back to Earth so I guess she was off the hook.

She had just about calmed down when Prissy piped up and said, “Everybody that drives by is going to see a bag of poop on your house”. That sent her over the edge again which got me tickled again. I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t help it. I assured her that nobody would know it was a bag of poop on the roof and that Daddy would get it down when he got home. This seemed to ease her mind and off she and Prissy went to play. I of course, called half my family to tell them of my child’s traumatic excrement experience but most of them couldn’t understand me because I was laughing too hard.

This morning, Honey goes in to wake Baby Girl up and tells her, “You are never going to believe what the paper boy did. He threw our paper on the roof!” She sat straight up in the bed and her eyes got as big as saucers. He went on, “I guess I’m going to have to climb up there and get it so Mama can work her crossword puzzle”. He turned to walk off and she yelled, “NO – don’t climb up there. We can get another paper”. He said, “Why don’t you want me to climb up there? Do you think I might fall?” “No” she replied, “I’m afraid there will be poop in the bag”. She then recounted the events of the night before to her Daddy. By then end of her tale, I was about to wet my pants because Honey was trying to maintain a serious face and explain to her all of the reasons she shouldn’t be throwing bags of poop in the air. I dried my eyes and went to work.

So, now do you understand why we call them the Crack heads? Let me know if you need someone to pick up your yard – Baby Girl is willing to contract out. And, if you will give her the address of your worst enemy, she will carry her little orange back over to their house an fling it on their roof…………..untied.

Here Kitty Kitty

I mentioned in the last post that I was referring to Harley’s mother as Carol Ann because of her “Poltergeist” quality. Well, it’s also because I don’t know her name. Now, it’s not unusual to meet someone and not catch their name but after the exchange I had with her yesterday, I’m a little weirded out about some of the things I DO know about her and her name is not one of them. Read on………

On Monday afternoon I got a call from TJ to warn me about Carol Ann. She said that when I got home from work to RUN into my house because if she caught me outside I would be trapped for days. She went on to tell me that the woman was NUTS and that we might all just need to pack up and head to her boyfriends house for the week. I appreciated the warning but I was now desperate to meet this person. Everyone, including her own child, was telling me that she was crazy – well I had to see for myself. When will I learn to listen!!

When I got home from work I told Honey about my warnings of Carol Ann. He too was intrigued and we decided we HAD to lure her out of the house so we could experience her first hand. I turned on the radio, Honey started watering our grass and Harley’s hoping it would prompt her to poke her head out and ask who he was. Nothing – no sign of her. Harley called from work to see if she was outside and I told her that the coast was clear. Honey and I sat out on the patio talking, laughing and playing with the dogs until almost 6:30pm – nothing.

At around 7pm, Harley stuck her head out the back door and gave me the International sign for “do you have a beer” and asked, “Do you have any parmesan cheese?” I said, “Why yes I do, it’s in the fridge. Would you like to borrow it?” Harley was halfway down the hill before I could get the words out and through my back door. I handed her a beer and started looking for the cheese. Now, Harley can nurse a glass of wine for an hour but she downed that beer in less than 30 seconds. She then proceeded to tell me what had been going on at her house while she was at work.

Harley is an EMACILATE housekeeper. I mean, no matter when you walk in her house it looks like she is ready for an Interior Design photo shoot. Obviously, she does not get this quality from her mother. While Harley was at work, Carol Ann managed to unhook all of the electronic components in her house, go through every closet and box she could find, drug out movies that had been packed away and unscrewed some light bulbs (not removed them, just loosened them – we don’t know why). She had sifted through every piece of paper, including bills and personal stuff and even sifted through the caller ID until she found the name of a male (that Harley quit seeing months ago) and decided to call him. I thought Harley was going to burst into tears. I rubbed her shoulders, told her to breathe deep, gave her some gum and cheese and sent her back home.

I returned to the patio and was filling Honey in on the “next door activities” when Harley returned to the patio to breathe again. She came over and sat down with us and we reassured her that it wasn’t permanent and she could do anything for a week. That’s when she informed us that Carol Ann is kicking around the idea of buying the house next door to Nana. I made a mental note to buy large quantities of a flammable liquid and a box of matches. Harley was just about calm when we heard her back door open and saw a tuft of white hair stick out. I nudged Honey because I knew we were FINALLY going to get to meet this enigma and I didn’t want him to miss a thing!

When Harley saw her – she literally turned pale. She immediately jumped up and started trying to coax Carol Ann back into the house but it was too late…….she’d spotted Snow and was headed down to pet him. This was going to be fun. Harley looked at me with the most sympathetic look and went back in her house. I immediately started asking about this woman’s trip, hoping to get her to talk to us. WELL – as is turned out, talking is her strong point.

After a brief description of her trip she informed us that she was worried about her kitty. She has a cat that she has raised since he was 3 weeks old and he isn’t used to her not being there. She needed to call and check on him and she hoped that he was adjusting well while she was away. Perfectly normal – right? WRONG!!! In the next breath she informed us that she thought her kitty had a new “lady friend” but that she didn’t think he would know what to do with her because he’s never been around other cats. However, she knows that he has a sex drive because he has a “special blanket” that he hauls all over the house and she’s watches him and “he get a hunk of that blanket in his mouth, starts growling and just goes to town”. Yes folks, you understood that correctly. Not only is her cat a little bit on the repressed side, she seems to enjoy watching he and his “special blanket” do the nasty.

I dare not look at Honey because I know I will completely loose it and laugh at this woman but I can see him out of the corner of my eye and his entire head is turning red and he is looking at the ground.

She then proceeds to tell us how “sometimes at night he crawls up on my chest, squirms around and nuzzles my neck. I know what he’s doing but you just have to let him go because it helps him sleep better”. Again – yes, you understood correctly. Carol Ann is being molested by her cat. And that was it – she turned around and went in the house. Well, at that point Honey LOST it. We were both laughing so hard there were tears streaming down our faces.

Later on that evening when Harley returned the cheese and downed another beer, Honey recounted the story for her. I thought she was going to die. At that point she banned us from speaking to her mother. We are to completely ignore her if she comes outside. Yeah, right – like that’s going to happen. There is no way that I can have that much free entertainment sitting right next door and not enjoy it. I’ve decided that I’m going to mix up a pitcher of margaritas and sit on the patio and wait. Let me know if you want to stop by.

Carol Ann Arrives

I’ve spoken about my neighbors on several occasions because they are like my family and they provide hours of entertainment. I am very fortunate to have these people in my life as they are wonderful friends and I love them dearly. And being that some of them read this, I will go ahead and extend my olive branch to Harley now. I love you dearly but there is no way I couldn’t tell this story……….hope you will still speak to me.

So Harley has been stressing out for about a week because her 67 year old mother was driving in from California to visit. She has been “warning” us that her mother is an odd bird and that our best bet would be to avoid her. Knowing that Harley sometimes over-stresses about things I just let it go in one ear and out the other. Obviously, I should’ve listened to Harley.

On Sunday night, Harley was making up the guest room and missed a phone call. On her voice mail she got, “Well, I’m here and I’ve had a blow out. Thanks a lot!” Her mother, whom I will call Carol Ann because she has a kind of “Poltergeist” quality, does not have a cell phone so this call came from a pay phone. Now, Harley, being the concerned daughter she is, immediately freaks out because she has no clue how to find her mother. For all she knows, Carol Ann is wandering around on the Interstate somewhere in Downtown Memphis. Harley heads to Nana’s to have a minor panic attack and seek reassurance that her mother will actually arrive at her home in one piece.

Half an hour later, the phone rings again, “Ok, I got it fixed and I’m on my way. This really nice couple stopped and helped me, blah, blah, blah.” Ummmm – excuse me but where ARE you? – was Harley’s reaction. “I’m about an hour and a half outside of Little Rock”. Harley asked if she had already driven through Little Rock. “No”. Ummmm – but the earlier message said “I’m here”. “Yeah, I meant I was here – where I was”. Without completely loosing her cool, Harley is able to tell her to call when she gets to Memphis.

Around 1am the call comes that Carol Ann has reached Memphis and needs directions to the house. Harley asks what happened to the turn-by-turn directions she had emailed her to which her mother replied, “I can’t understand those. Just tell me how to get there”. So, Harley gives her directions again and Carol Ann was back on the road. 15 minutes later the phone rang – it was Carol Ann. She was now at Whitestation and Summer at a gas station and she was lost. Harley asked why she got off the Interstate instead of following her directions and she replied that “nothing looked familiar”. Now, the fact that she’d never been here so nothing SHOULD look familiar never dawned on her. While Harley tried to explain how to get back on the Interstate and continue to her house Carol Ann began yelling at some man pumping gas because his radio was too loud and she couldn’t hear. After 5 more minutes of directions and yelling, Carol Ann hung up and got back on the road. Harley poured a LARGE glass of wine and tried to breathe deeply.

Ten minutes later the phone rang again – it was a Police Officer. He said that he had her mother and he believed she was a DUI. Harley almost came unglued. The officer, not knowing what kind of evening Harley had been having, quickly told her he was kidding and that her mother was just lost because her “daughter gives horrible directions”. He told Harley that he would make sure Carol Ann arrived safely at her house. Harley thanked him, hung up and poured another glass of wine.

At about 2am, Harley is standing on the front porch, phone in hand, waiting for her police escorted parental unit to show up. That’s when she hears her mother’s voice coming from the end of the street. The officer is driving slowly, shining his light on the houses to locate the address. Carol Ann is following behind him with her head hanging out the window yelling, “Are we close? Is that the house? Are we in the Ghetto? Why are there no street lights? Is this the Ghetto?” Harley contemplated going inside and turning out all the lights but instead she waved to the officer and he led Carol Ann right to the driveway. Harley thanked the officer and tried to get her mother in the house. Carol Ann was audibly disappointed that she had “brought a perfectly nice man right to your front door and you don’t even try to talk to him”. Harley to her mother to “get in the house” through gritted teeth, thanked the officer again and tried to find a rock to crawl under.

On Monday morning I saw Harley on the patio where she recounted this story to me. I asked how long her mother would be staying to which she replied “I have no idea – she won’t tell me”. I told her that I would keep cold beverages in my fridge for her (since her mother isn’t allowed around alcohol) and to just knock when she needed a break. Poor thing – if she makes it through this it will be a miracle!

WHAT THE ...............

OMG!!!! Michael Jackson found innocent?!?!?

You have GOT to be kidding me!! I am absolutely disgusted with our so called Justice System. The jurors in this case were obviously star-struck by the never ending parade of washed up actors trying to grab another 15 minutes in the spotlight by testifying on his behalf. I wonder how much it cost him to get two out of work actors, who have both been known drug abusers, to say that they weren't molested by Michael? Hmmmmm....... maybe the same ammount it costs to buy a gram of coke and an ounce of weed???? It turns my stomach to think that we live in a society that is so blinded by celebrity that it will allow someone to prey openly on it's children.

I wonder how long it will be before we see pictures of him at Neverland dancing around with a new group of victims? Any parent that allows their child to associate with Michael Jackson so be convicted of ignorance, forced to give up parental rights and their reproductive organs cut out with a butter knife!

Vending Machine Violations

Ok – if you know me you know that I have a chemical dependency. Some would even label my affliction as an “addiction” or even go so far as to call me a “junkie”. As I’m sure you’ve all heard a million times, the first step in getting better is to admit you have a problem, so here goes. Hi, my name is Syd and I am a Diet Coke addict. Whew, I feel better already. However, my outlook wasn’t quite so sunny about 15 minutes ago…….

I buy Diet Coke by the 12 pack. When it’s on sale I stock up – there will sometimes be upwards of 5 cases of Diet Coke in my shed. I have a small fridge at work and I usually bring a 12 pack to work so that I don’t have to pay 55 cents a piece for them in the vending machine. I ran out last week and forgot to bring in a new 12 pack so I have been forced to shell out my cash in order to feed my habit since last Thursday (mental note, put friggin cokes in the car when you get home). Now, I don’t mind feeding the vending machine in order to taste that sweet nectar, however, I do expect a few things when I pump in my change. #1 – I expect there to be Diet Coke in the machine. #2 – I expect for the machine to actually dispense my beverage when I press the button. #3 – I expect the machine to give me correct change and #4 – I expect that if none of the above apply for the machine to give me back the exact same amount of money that I put in. It would seem that the company that services our machines (no names but it rhymes with Tartan and starts with an S) does not agree with my expectations.

Last Thursday, I entered the break room to purchase my beloved Diet Coke. I put my dollar in the machine, press the Diet Coke button and ……….nothing. Sold Out scrolled across the little LED panel. Dang it! Now, this is the ONLY machine that has Diet Coke and it only has ONE “spot” for them. I can get every bloomin variety of Dr. Pepper on the planet but there is only one Diet Coke……..whatever. Anyway, I scan the other drink machine and the only thing in it that I can actually fathom drinking is water. Yes, there is a water fountain about 4 steps away but I have to have something to carry back to my office and sit on my coaster. I decide that I can settle for water and I insert my 55 cents (the other machine “changed” my dollar) into this machine and press the Water button and ……..nothing. However this time it wasn’t the machine was out of water – it simply ate my 55 cents. This left me standing there with 45 cents and no friggin drink. I stomp back to my office but not before stopping by the Facilities office to complain. I get back to my office and call one of my techs that was gone to lunch and asked him to bring me a Diet Coke. I guess he has been around long enough to have noticed my addiction because he brought me two.

On Friday, the guy from Facilities came by to let me know that the vending machine guy was there to fix the machines and fill up the Diet Coke “for me” (like I’m the only one that drinks them). Anyway, later in the day I go back to the break room to attempt to get a beverage. I brought a crisp $1 bill with me as not to anger the machine. I inserted my money and pressed the Diet Coke button. The LED scrolled VEND and I heard the beautiful sound of my Diet Coke falling down the shoot. I retrieved my beverage and my change………my 25 cents in change. Huh? $1.00 - $ .55 = $ .25??? Whatever, I had my coke and I cheerfully went back to my office. I went through this 3 more time during the day so I wound up spending $3 on 4 cokes when I could’ve bought a 12 pack for $3.59! I went home for the weekend and didn’t think to tell the Facilities guy or remember to bring a 12 pack to work today.

This morning I went to the break room first thing. I didn’t have correct change so I again spent 75 cents for a beverage. Around noon I needed another fix but this time I was smart. I was going to get Animal Crackers to munch on so I would buy them first and then have correct change for the Coke machine – HA! I passed the Coke machine and hit the snack machine. I inserted my dollar and waited for my credit to appear. A few seconds go buy and I see my dollar slowing coming back out of the slot like it was being rejected. I pulled it out so that I could try again but the end of my dollar was now MISSING. I mean the machine literally ATE my dollar. It was completely jagged and mangled. Needless to say, I lost it! I am standing there yelling at this stupid machine and telling it all about the problems I’d been having with the drink machine in an effort to make it fully understand the magnitude of the situation. Personally I think it was ignoring me as the end of my currency wasn’t returned. However, I am fairly certain that the sandwich machine got the point and will NEVER give me any problems.

From one of the tables, one of the ladies I work with offered me 50 cents. I had my quarter left over from that morning plus a dime and a nickel that I found in my office floor. I took 55 cents and gave her my torn up dollar and my remaining change and stuck it in the Coke machine. It must’ve heard me yelling at the friggin snack machine because it immediately spit out my Diet Coke without hesitation. It also gave me back a QUARTER! So, I flipped it to the kind woman that had afforded me the beverage, thanked her for her kindness, apologized for subjecting her to my hissy fit and returned to my office to vent........and drink my Diet Coke.

Wheeeew – I feel better getting that off my chest. Thanks for reading. I’ve got to run now, one of my guys just informed me that Schnuck’s has 12 packs 4 for $10. Gotta stock up.

Motherhood and Mental Illness

Any of you ladies have given birth you will remember what it was like to be completely brain dead. I mean, it is as if your brain somehow became attached to the umbilical cord and was delivered along with the baby and discarded with the rest of the useless muck. I used to think it was some kind of cruel joke but I now realize that it is a defense mechanism our brains use to keep us from going insane. Think about it – sleep deprivation, someone screaming in you face that can’t tell you what’s wrong, puke, poop, going for days and weeks without getting to eat hot food. It’s like being in a concentration camp but without the luxury of solitary confinement.

The funny thing is our brain doesn’t only do this soon after the birth of a child. I have found that it can strike at any time. My mother calls these “Senior Moments” but I am not yet ready to have anything “senior”. I prefer “Motherhood Madness” as I am convinced that I would not have these mental problems if I had remained celibate (I knew I should’ve listened to my grandmother).

Let me preface this with letting you know that my Honey is out of town for work. This means that I on my own with all of the kids and dogs………OMG, I miss my Honey!!! Anyway, he left on Sunday morning and we had cheer camp all day in a gym that was about 423 degrees. On Monday, I got Baby Girl up and off to Nana’s and myself off to work. Did I remember to feed her? No – I’ve only fed her breakfast every day of her life for 7 years but for some reason it slipped my mind on this particular morning. I guess it was because I was thinking about all I had to do that day. I needed to make a deposit for Honey, make sure Baby Girl’s uniform was clean for the Redbirds performance that night, buy a video tape for Z’s camera so I can capture the entire 30 second event in living color, dole out all of the tickets for the game to family and friends and make sure she arrived at the stadium no later than 6:15pm. Not to mention that we had made some system changes over the weekend and I was anticipating major fall-out at work. I felt bad that I didn’t feed her but she would surely inform Nana and it would be rectified.

Everything was relatively calm at work – no major issues. At lunchtime I readied myself to run to the bank and Best Buy to pick up the video tape. I go to retrieve my keys from my purse and realize that I can’t find Honey’s money. I’m freaking out because I just KNOW that I put it in an envelope and stuck it in my purse. I bolt out the door and fly home to find it laying on the kitchen table……….where I then remembered that I laid it while I cleaned out the 173 receipts that were wadded up in my purse. I grab the deposit and a Diet Coke and head to the bank. I make the deposit and meander over to KFC to get some lunch. I eat my lunch in the car and drive back to the office…………..forgetting to stop at Best Buy for the tape.

At 4:45p I cut out of work so I can hit Best Buy and still beat traffic on the Interstate – we HAVE to be at the stadium by 6:15 or the Cheerleading Gods will revoke our pom poms! I stand on the aisle where the tapes are and debate over the 5 different kinds that they have. Now, bear in mind, I have written down the exact kind I am supposed to buy but decide that maybe I need to read about all of them just in case there is something better than the manufacturer recommended Hi8 (sometimes being a techie becomes a burden in a time crunch). I finally decide that maybe the manufacturer knows what it’s talking about and I grab a 2 pack or blank tapes and head to the checkout. On my way there, the phone rings – it’s Baby Girl. “Uh, Mama, where are you?” I explain where I am, what I’m doing and that I will be there shortly. She then needs to know where Best Buy is in relation to my office, our house and the friggin International Dateline. While I am trying to explain to her the exact geographical location of the Best Buy, I am digging in my purse to get my wallet and pay for the tapes. NO WALLET!!!! I tell my daughter that I have to go and will be there soon. I hang up and panic. Where could it be!?! It’s PINK – how can you misplace a PINK wallet?!!? I run out to my car only to find it lying in my console – not sure how it got there but I was dang glad to see it. I go back into Best Buy, complete my purchase and RUN to my car. I make it home at 5:20p and yell for Baby Girl to come get dressed.

She gets dressed, I change clothes and put her hair up in the standard “cheer ponytail” complete with her official black ribbon. Prissy knocks on the door (she is going with us) and I throw everyone in the car and away we go – it’s 5:32p. I notice I am about on E and I need cash to park so I whip into the gas station, pump $10 in gas and hit the ATM. Back on the road and it’s only 5:42p – I’m doing good! I maneuver the interstate like a seasoned NASCAR driver and exit on Second Street at exactly 6pm. I manage to remember the directions Mother has given me to the closest parking garage and not get lost. I pay to park and am driving up the garage ramp at 6:11 – 4 minutes to spare – woo hoo!! We get parked, gather all of our stuff, and run to the gate. We enter the park at EXACTLY 6:15 – write it down folks – I was ON TIME!! We make our way to the “designated meeting spot” and find only one other squad member. Obviously I am not the only one who has a job. We wait and wait and wait some more and finally all of our girls (all 7 of them) manage to congregate by 7p (the game starts at 7:05!!!). No problem – I was ON TIME and that’s all I’m focusing on.

All of our invitees arrived – Grandma, OB, Z, Diamond, Cranky and Sparky and we took our seats. At the end of the second inning it came over the PA, “We have a special treat for you tonight. The squads of SYS are going to perform for you on the 1st base line!!” I grabbed the video camera and headed for the wall. All of the girls ran out yelling and screaming and really working the crowd. I spotted Baby Girl and got the camera in focus. I was soooo excited for her and she looked so cute out there doing her little dance. I looked through the view finder and pressed that little red button to record this big moment in her life. Inside the viewfinder I see something flash………”NO TAPE”!!! Son of a ……….I hadn’t put the dang tape in the camera. 15 seconds later is was over and they ran off the field. I returned the camera to the bag along with the 2 unopened tapes and gave it back to my brother and thanked him for the use (lessness) of his camera.

The rest of the game was pretty good. The girls had a ball and I enjoyed spending time with my family. However, in retrospect I probably should’ve had Z play “cameraman” since he is more familiar with the equipment and probably would’ve known that the tape had to actually be put IN the camera in order to capture the images. I guess all those years I was blonde really did do some damage after all. Oh well, ,maybe one day when Baby Girl has children of her own she will understand why there is no video of her self-described “dream come true”. She can explain to her children that it is all her fault that their grandmother was a complete idiot and that one day it will be their fault that she doesn’t have the mental capacity to record their life events for posterity.