Mom’s stuck in the fridge

I thought I would share how helpful us three girls were to our Mother. We are so going to Hell!!!

So, one morning, I’m laying in bed half sleeping half awake. I hear my mother start to holler for any of us girls. She needs a little help. I figure my sisters will go help her since their room was directly over the kitchen. I figured if I stayed quiet, they would all assume I was still sleeping.

Apparently, my sisters had the same thought. All three of us girls were silent even though we were all awake as we heard the following from our Mother:

Umm… Girls… Could one of you come help me a minute?
Girls. Could one of you come help me?
Girls. I’m stuck in the fridge. Could one of you come help me?
GIRLS… I NEED HELP. I’M STUCK IN THE FRIDGE.
GIRLS… (words I cant say) I NEED HELP. HELP. I’M STUCK
OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WOULD ONE OF YOU HELP ME
GIRLS… [my name], [my middle sister], [baby sis] I NEED HELP
OH GOD
I’M STUCK IN THE FRIDGE. I JUST NEED A PAIR OF SCISSORS. HELP ME.
[grumble of words that shouldnt be repeated]
Never mind. I ripped my finger nail off. THANKS FOR YOUR HELP

Yeah, I know, there is a special place in Hell for kids like this. Turns out we were all in our beds with pillows over our faces LAUGHING. Not one of us would move to help our poor Mother out of the fridge. Oh, we could tell it wasnt really life threatening or at least one of us might have moved, I hope.

Trying to live in harmony with spiders

All Stories

So, I am not fond of spiders. Ok… they creep me out and I completely go all girly. I cant help it.

They didn’t used to, but one day during my childhood, I walked through a web heading into the house. I looked down and well… If I woulda puckered my lips, I would have been kissing the big hairy ugly wood spider with his eight eyes staring up at me. Needless to say, I freaked out and haven’t been right since.

Now, I will kill spiders in the house. If they are outside, I let them live – that’s the rule. But those big ugly hairy wood spiders are huge. I’m a little weird about trying to kill something by stepping on it if it is bigger than my foot.

Well, I moved to this little old house back in the fall. Apparently, there is a very large family of wood spiders that live there too. I did not know this until after I signed the lease.

So as I start moving my stuff into the new place, I am heading up the steps and I see this massive massive massive spider in the corner of one of the steps. I’m barefoot… Yeah… no stepping on this spider… nope… not gonna happen… So I run down stairs and try to find something that will kill it. I manage to kill it (I took multiple hits). Apparently it was a mommy spider as lots of babies started running around… Oh yeah… I’m gonna have nightmares… I leave the carcass sitting there on the steps. I figure it will let other spiders know this is not a spider friendly house. (Yes, for real, this is how my brain works.)

After a week, I finally have all my stuff moved in and I am officially moving me in as well. So I clean up the carcass figuring it is safe now. I haven’t seen any more big spiders. Oh was I ever wrong…

So there I am one day, again barefoot, enjoying my new place, when I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. I see it’s another really really really really really big ugly hair wood spider. I go all girly, shriek, and run in the opposite direction. Wood spiders tend to be a bit aggressive and it was coming towards me.

I’m thinking It’s the Daddy and his pissed that I killed Mommy. As I start to run, barefoot mind you, in the other direction to get something to kill it (it’s in the house, it has to die – that’s the rule), I spy another slightly smaller spider. Maybe the adolescent son? Well it happens to be exactly where I am planning on putting my foot as I am running from his Daddy…. So I ended up doing a Jesus walk on air move to avoid stepping on the teenage son spider. I am realizing now that I had two spiders coming at me from different directions… Can spiders really coordinate an attack? Yes, I believe they can! They were on this day.

I make it to the kitchen and grab my spider killing stick (yes, I have a spider killing stick – it’s sole purpose is to kill spiders). I have to hurry, because if I lose track of where these two went I will never ever sleep again. I came back around and decide to take out the smaller one first. It takes one good whack and he’s done. The Daddy, however, was not so easy. I hit him and it doesn’t even faze him. He lurches at me. I scream like a little girl and hit him again, and again, and again… About a dozen hits later, he’s finally dead and I am exhausted. Who knew battling with a couple of spiders could be so exhausting.

Now, I’ve told you all that to tell you this:

My house has a basement. Many wood spiders seem to live there.

So any time I have to go to the basement here is what happens (honest to God, this is exactly what I do):

I open the basement door
Turn the light on
I ever so politely holler down the steps
“Hi little spiders, I’m coming downstairs. Please don’t let me see you. If I see you, I have to kill you. That’s the rule”
Wait 30 seconds
Head down the steps cautiously
Do what I need to do and get out quickly
Once at the top of the steps again
I holler down to the spiders again letting them know I am done – after all, it’s only right to be courteous

I swear this is really what I do… Yeah, I know I’m not right. I said I was slightly off center. You believe me now don’t you. Go ahead and laugh at the 42 yr old woman, who goes hiking barefoot in the woods with the bears, catches snakes, etc, but comes completely undone at the sight of a single spider.

The Butterfly Bush Assassin

All Stories, Random Acts of Terror

Probably one of the funniest stories as it truly showcases my special brand of crazy.

Let’s just say I was having a rough few years and was in the process of making some very tough decisions. The kind where you know what you have to do, but you refuse to accept it. Apparently, if you refuse to embrace what you need to do long enough, the Universe will forcefully push you in the direction you need to go. The Universe and I were at great odds during this period. We had lots of battles. I may have lost this one, but I proved my point that day. I will not go quietly.

So, I had this massive beautiful bright purple dwarf butterfly bush in my front yard. I planted it and nurtured it for years. It was huge. One year, a storm pulled it half out of the ground and laid it over. I got it back up right and anchored until its roots could reestablish (of course in total redneck style – I used ratchet straps). I babied this bush back to health.

My Poor Butterfly Bush

The following year. Another bad storm rolled in. I walked outside after the storm to check for damages to the house. The first thing I saw… yeah… my butterfly bush was again half out of the ground laying over. Only this time it was the opposite side.

Well, this did not go over well with me. The Universe wants a war, it will get one. I jumped on the car and raced to Lowe’s.

I was 60 shades of pissed off. and apparently anyone within a 2 mile radius could feel the anger radiating. Lowe’s was super busy. As I walked with “great purpose” (super long fast stride clearly indicating I am in a homicidal rage) to the power tools sections, the sea of people parted magically.

I get to the power tools (the very best section in any hardware store!) and pick out a shiny new sawzall. Then I pick up a pack of heavy duty fire and rescue demolition blades for the sawzall with an evil grin.

Once back to the house, I crank the music full blast. What was the choice of music… Cypress Hill.

Get the sawzall ready. I briefly notice that all my neighbors have vanished. Chuckled to myself realizing I was yet again terrorizing the very nice neighborhood.

So there I am – 41 yrs old, shorts and bikini top, cigarette, shiny new sawzall with the fire and rescue blade, and Cypress Hill. Hey, I said I was slightly off center… Ok, maybe slightly is a bit of an understatement.

I squat down working my way under the branches to the base. I’m in a not so comfortable or flattering position with the sawzall between my legs so that I can get to the base and I start cutting.

Sawzall – a pissed off violent crazy chic’s best friend…

At that moment my brain decides to take a little side trip and all I hear in my head is the line Steve Buscemi says in the movie Armageddon when he’s riding the nuclear warhead…“Relax Brother, I just wanted to feel the power between my leg.“

Well, now I cant keep a straight face to save my soul; anger vaporized. I was thankful for the cover of the butterfly bush so the neighbors really couldnt see me. I was laughing so hard I was in tears. (Not so easy to operate a sawzall in an awkward position while in tears for the record.)

This has now become funny as sin. I’m taking out my butterfly bush in a fit of violent rage. Well, now I’m just entertaining myself. I finish cutting down the whole thing down, dig out the rest of the roots, and bag it up. Many hours worth of bagging. After 5 or 6 hrs, my hands are blistered and re-blistered, I’m sore, and exhausted. Since it’s dark, I decide to finish bagging the rest the next day.

Not one neighbor pokes their head out. I’m pretty sure they had thought I was way off the deep end. I find it amusing that I seem to terrorize them.

The next day, I get home from work ready to finish cleaning up my mess. What do I see? One of my neighbors had mowed my grass. Well, I guess I ought to thank them and let them know I’m no longer swinging from the rafters.

Another came over to see if I needed help disposing of the carcass. Yeah, I had good neighbors even if I scared the hell out of them often. I miss them.

What’s really funny is how many people truly think I’m nuts. I’m an very logical person. When I saw the butterfly bush laying over, I knew it had to come out. Oh, I was pissed, but it wasn’t the end of the world. I coulda used the hacksaw and spent all day just cutting it manually. I coulda bought a chainsaw, but that’s not something I would use often. Oh, wait, I could use a sawzall and I’ve had a need for one of those on more than one occasion Therefore, a sawzall was the completely logical choice and would provide some entertaining harmless stress relief.

You smart rady (You dumb bitch)

Adventures Traveling, All Stories

So I was in NYC on a business trip some years back with a few co-workers. After our meeting one of my work friends and I decide to walk around Times Square before dinner.

We come across an Asian lady who is painting signs of people’s names. Each letter is made up of objects like dolphins, palm trees, etc. These would be cool for our kids and the sign says $5. So we both decide to get signs with our kids names cause we’re good Moms.

She gives the Asian lady the names of her 3 kids and I give her my son’s name. We arrange to come back and pay for them and pick them up after we’re done exploring.

Well, we get back and my friend gets hers first. The look great. Matted and in a nice plastic sleeve. The Asian lady says $30. My friend argues that the sign says $5. And the street side argument is on…

Turns out the matting and plastic is an extra $5 each. Argument continues and finally my friend says she doesn’t want the matting and plastic. The Asian lady, clearly as pissed at my friend, takes the matting and plastic sleeves off. My friend pays the $15.

The Asian lady gives me a pissed off look, and is ready to dismantle mine too. I tell her I want the matting and plastic. Since I only have one child, I’m ok paying the extra $5 for the matting and plastic sleeve. So as I’m paying the lady and she sees I’m not going to argue, she says to me “You smart rady”

Well it takes everything I have not to bust laughing. I’m biting my tongue. We get up the street just a few steps and I bust out laughing looking at my friend who is still pissed and I say “I smart rady. You dumb bitch”.

Hey baby, wanna go for a ride

All Stories

So… I tend to be a fairly nice person even if I’m a little off. If you talk to me, I will talk to you. I’ll joke, smile, laugh, etc – kinda like a normal person. Well, it seems, one of my superpowers is to attract creepy people and that is oh so much fun when it’s a co-worker.

Me, being me, regularly talked to this co-worker, mainly because I saw them often since I work for a small company. Sometimes he came to my office, but always overstayed just chatting. I didn’t think anything of it. Why would I? Not to mention we were both married, he had a half a dozen kids, and he was incredibly unattractive. Oh wait… damn hindsight.

Well, there was this Microsoft conference I signed up to attend. Given his position in the company, he also signed up. So we figured we would car pool the 90 miles for the (and Thank God) one day conference. Everything was fine, until we stopped for dinner halfway home. We eating and chit chatting… and next thing I know, our little business outing gets referred to as a date.

What???? A date??? What??? I damn near choked on my dinner sitting there Thanking God that he didn’t actually know where I lived. Needless to say I was done eating at that point and ready to get that last 40 miles of our day done.

We get back to the car and on the interstate when I get further creeped out by the conversation occurring. Really, dude, this was not a date. I am now contemplating doing a tuck and roll out of a car doing 80+ mph. 《Pause for full body shudder and grossed out sounds》

I make it back to my car and waste no time getting in and taking off. Get home and jump in the shower in an attempt to was the creepiness away. I get to work the next day and share the story with a female co-worker who of course finds this all too funny. (My friends are so supportive). We decide any time he is around, someone from our team will interrupt me to have a “work” related meeting. One would this this might end the story, but one would be wrong.

So, there I am, minding my own business, working like a good little girl when I get a call from him about his latest purchase. Oh it is clearly meant to impress me. I hang up the phone and promptly have a full body shudder that cause me to stand up and run in circles in my office saying “ewe” repeatedly. I manage to head to a friend’s office to tell her that latest. All I can do is shudder and dance around creeped out saying “ewe”.

What was it you ask… well the short back story is I’m a Mopar kinda girl. Don’t get me wrong, I like Chevy too, but I like Mopars a little better. My fav is the old Cudas. Anyone who knows me knows this.

72 barracuda

Well, he bought a 72 Barracuda, which, if you know your Mopars, is not the same. Don’t get me wrong, I like both the 68 & 69 Barracuda fastbacks, but by no means are they as hot as the 70 & especially 71 Cuda, and add a Hemi engine with that super deep rumbly sound… 《pause for moment for self》.

71 Hemi Cuda

Not only did he buy a car, thinking this would somehow impress me, but it had to be shipped from one coast to the other and he paid $5k for a not so great car that needed work just to run. I mean it was a Plain Jane 6 cylinder automatic tranny, bottom of the line…. Dude, you got screwed and not by me and never ever ever by me. And you’ve got a bunch of kids to feed.

So he finally gets the car running and asks if I want to go for a ride. He’ll even let me drive. Yeah, that’s what I want to do, encourage your creepy behavior even more. No freaking way. I’d rather pull teeth from a rabid porcupine in a swamp surrounded by starving alligators.

Needless to say, this provided much entertainment to a few work friends as they would ask periodically if I wanted to go for a ride. (Supportive bunch of people). Oh this little joke lasted a couple of years for them. I can still hear their teasing “hey baby, wanna go for a ride…”

How to pass drivers education

All Stories, Priceless Stories

Ok…enough mocking other people’s stupidity. Let’s get back to mocking my own personal brilliance while we’re talking about cars.

For the record, this is a story I have not openly shared. Oh, my parents freely tell this story. But I’ve kept this little embarrassing gem to myself for about 27 yrs.

My high school had a drivers ed program. There were about 20 of us to one instructor (brilliant idea) and enough cars for each student to have one for practicing parking. There was a section of the school parking lot set up to practice parking while instructor watched. Although, I never figured out how he saw anything with his eyes closed.

When it came time to go practice parking, we all grab a set of keys and heading to where the cars were parked. Guess what I got? A Pontiac Bonneville. Yeah, a big ass boat. Oh this is going to be fun.

Naturally, it was the dead of winter and had just snowed. So there was snow and ice around parts of the parking lot.

We all got in our cars, lined up and started our little parking parade. All the spots were set up for pull in parking and marked by orange cones. We drove around in a circle trying each spot. Well one of the spots was set up on a 90 degree left turn and angled incorrectly for pulling in. It the object was to back in, it would have been set up perfectly… But we were only practicing pulling in parking.

I was happily parking along like everyone else until I got to this spot. Now I saw everyone else do the same thing I was about to do… and they all hit the same cone regardless of the car size. So I knew this was going to be a breeze in the yacht. Ha! I, of course, hit the cone. So I put the car in park, got out, trudge through the snow and ice fixed the cone and tried again.

Well, dont you know, your feet become very slippery on the pedals when your shoes are snow packed. I tried to pull the yacht in again and hit the cone again. So I put my foot on the break and….

My foot slipped off the break…

Nailing the gas pedal…

And we are airborne…

Over the small embankment….

Rolling down the hill…

I place my foot on the break again and dont you know…

My foot slips off again…

Nailing the gas pedal again…

To lurch further down the hill into the deeper snow and mud…

Sinking…

YEA ME! I went muddin in drivers ed…

Shoot me now, please shoot me now… is all I can think. I anchor the yacht and desperately try to become invisible. Yeah, that didnt work. The yacht is officially stuck and all my classmates are watching and laughing. Of course, since the yacht was stuck, they didnt quite find it so funny when they had to push the behemoth of a car out so we could get it back up the hill to, ya know, pavement.

I believe I still am the only student at that school to ever take a car airborne and go muddin all on school property in one fell swoop. And I PASSED drivers ed… Top that!

And you wonder why they call you Sprinkles

All Stories

Speaking of goin’ for a ride… I remembered this little story today.

I had a business trip to make that was a little over a 2 hour drive. There were 3 of us going and given the travel directions for each employee, this was a two car trip. So the plan was I would hitch a ride with one co-worker going up and the ride back with our boss. Ok. This shouldn’t be too painful. I only have to ride with Sprinkles (a male straight coworker). I can handle this, right?

Yeah, it was one of the longest drives of my life. In the first place, I have a bit of a lead foot and Sprinkles does not. And, I learned Sprinkles only lists to AM radio. Oh… help me… and the channel Sprinkles listens to most is the weather. Ya know, where the computer generated voice repeats the weather report over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again and again and again and again and… oh sorry I was having a flashback.

So, there were are “rollin” up the interstate at least 5 mph UNDER the speed limit, jamming to the WEATHER REPORT, when Sprinkles says the following (prepare yourself):

“That guy has the most boring job.”

My brain slammed into my skull as I whipped my head around to see if he was joking. Please let him be joking. I didn’t think he was smart enough to pull off that kinda joke. Crap, he’s not joking. Oh Lord help me please.

It took every once of strength I had not to mouth the words “Help! I’ve been kidnapped” to a truck driver who was actually driving slower than Sprinkles. Figuring the boss would be mad if I ditched the meeting, I then had to talk myself out of reaching over to open the driver side door and push Sprinkles out into oncoming traffic. It was sooooo tempting and I’m pretty sure I could have justified the temporary insanity plea based on extreme stupidity to a manslaughter charge.

We finally make it to our destination and meet up with our boss. Sprinkles managed to dazzle us uttering more brilliance. My head is ready to explode.

After the meeting, I rode back with the boss starting our trip back with “Don’t ever ever ever lock me in a car with him again or I’ll end up in jail.” And then I told him about the most boring job in the world.

The boss is a good man. He never locked me in a car with Sprinkles again. Boss knows prison orange is not my color.

Life with a dyslexic slightly off center child

All Stories, Family

While I’m thinking about my childhood, I figured I would provide a sampling of what it was like to raise me. My poor parents. They had no idea what they were getting into by allowing me to enter this world.

Virgin vs. Virgo

At about the age of 9, I come home and ask my mother if I’m a virgin. I was confused by the shocked look on her face and her stuttering. It was a simple question after all. She eventually, choked out “I hope so. Why do you ask?”. My reply was that I was curious as to what i was. Poor Mom was perplexed and asked me to explain further So i started explaining the zodiac signs of my friends. “Oh. You mean Virgo” she says as relief washes over her.

Hoat Canger

Sometimes the simplest questions can be very challenging. One day, I was cleaning my room and came out to ask my mother a question. I asked “Are there some spare hoat cangers that I could use?” Mom had a confused look on her face and said “hoat canger?” To which i replied, “Yes, hoat canger.” This did no clear her confused look. She ever so patiently told me she did not know what I was asking. Needless to say, I became frustrated and said hoat canger again. Well, this went on for a bit, until i finally became exasperated went to the coat closet and pulled out a damn hoat canger and showed it to her. To which she replies “Oh, you mean coat hanger!” Needless to say we laugh over this and sadio ration (translation = radio station) to this day. My parents had to learn a whole new language when talking with this daughter.

The day my ex was electrocuted

All Stories, Priceless Stories

So while I’m still thinking about funny stories that occurred when I lived in the shack, let me tell you about the time my son electrocuted my ex. (This is so much better told in person as I become very animated and my hands fly around as I retell this one.)

Many, many, many years ago… I’m sitting in the living room, minding my own business while my ex is in the shower. (Just for clarification, we were still together at the time. Not sure why I felt the need to point that out, but probably because I know I’m a little nuts, but not nuts enough to let my ex shower in my house… And you all dont really know where my line of crazy stops, so I thought clarification my be helpful. )

I hear this very loud thud and lots of other noises.

I jump up and run (the three steps it takes) to the bathroom to see what happened.

What do I find?

There is my ex, sprawled out bare butt naked, soaking wet laying on the floor, hair standing straight up, doing the dying cockroach.

I manage to ask if he’s ok and wait for an affirmative response before I bust out laughing (it was really tough to keep a straight face at the sight).

Oh, he did not think this was funny, but it so was!

Now, what had occurred:

Earlier in the day my son, who was about 10, had used the bathroom. One can only guess what thought process occurred but he had taken a small pair of scissors to the electrical cord on my ex’s beard trimmer while it was still plugged into the hot outlet. Good thing for the boy, the scissors had a rubber handle. Not so good for my ex.

My poor unsuspecting ex, gets out of the shower dripping wet, leaving water everywhere.

He stands in front of the sink where the exposed live wire is waiting.

He’s standing in a puddle of shower water since men dont have enough sense to dry before getting out of the shower.

He reaches for his hair brush, still dripping water and

ZAAAAPPPPPP….

220 lbs goes in the air and he slams into the wall behind him (thud) and slides to the floor shaking from the amplified electricity.

And, when he comes to, his ever so supportive then wife is standing there laughing so hard at the sight she nearly pees herself.

The moral of the story: Always dry off before getting out of the shower (us gals do) and always check for exposed wires before reaching.

Chicken physical re-hab

All Stories, Family

This one is going to be a bit difficult to share by text only. Visuals are really needed for the full effect, but I’ll do my best.

So, as a kid, we had chickens. Dad thought it would be a good idea to get a dozen chickens for eggs and then kill them for food after a year. He seemed to forget he had all girls. What do girls do with animals? Name them and play dress up with them. (yes, there where chickens with bows) Yeah, good luck killing an animal that one of your daughters named.

Well, one day, one of my younger sisters was playing with one of the chickens in the coop. The chicken (Panama) she was playing with was busy keeping eggs warm, so she decided, at about age 5, to “build” Panama a nicer roosting area, while she was on her nest. My sis gathered up some left over 4″ x 4″ fence post ends and starting stacking them around Panama.

During the “building” process, something went horribly awry and the wall crashed down on Panama crushing part of her head. Well, my sister was terribly upset, grabbed Panama and brought her into the house to out mother. This chicken is hurt and our father is out of town, leaving a house full of.girls to figure out how to deal with a badly hurt chicken.

Our poor mother knows the chicken should be put out of its suffering, but she just doesnt have the ability to break its neck and she has a teary-eyed 5, 4, and 12 yr olds standing there. So, since the injury was to Panama’s head, she figured Tylenol Works on her headaches, so why not. Now, keep reading before anyone breaks out in full PETA mode.

Mom did her best to prep us girls for Panama’s death, as really, given the injury she should not have lived. Mom crushed a little bit of Tylenol with some water and fed it to the bird. She figured it would either help reduce pain while it healed, or (and most likely) keep it more comfortable while it passed.

Panama stayed in the house with 3 young attentive nurses. Mom, of course, made us all go to bed and we all expected by morning Panama would have gone to Chicken heaven.

We all got up in the morning and shocking Panama was still alive. Mom gave her another chicken size dose of Tylenol After a few days of this treatment, Panama started doing much better. Again, shocked! But this is where it gets amusing. Chicken physical re-hab. Yes, you read that right. I said chicken physical re-hab.

The fence post left Panama with some brain damage and chickens dont have much to work with in the first place. So, Panama ended up blind in one eye. When she would try to eat or drink, she would miss what she was aiming for as she kept her one eye on the food. So we had to keep two bowls of food and water until she adjusted. Ok, it’s not really funny, but one cant help chuckle at the thought of a chicken pecking, missing, and lifting its head with a confused look. You dont realize how expressive a chicken can be and that is what is amusing.

She also could only go in circles since she only had vision in one eye. Ok, the accident wasnt funny, but it was really runny watching this poor chicken run in circles trying to get somewhere. And with 3 girls, Panama received lots of walking therapy. My sister (who still feels horribly responsible even 30 yrs later) would hold onto her as she would walk course correcting Panama as she walked. No joke, she really did. Poor kid felt so bad for hurting her friend, she worked on Panama’s rehab tirelessly.

After much chicken physical rehab, Panama was able to rejoin the rest of the chickens. Despite, her injury, she lead a good life and learned to adjust herself. She looked like a drunkard running through the yard, but she would get to where she was going. We think her resulting injuries actually gave her an advantage when other animals broke into the coop at night and killed many of our chickens ovet time. She was never touched. We believe there was a rumor among the predators Something to the effect of leave that one alone that runs in circles. She is crazy.

Panama lived for many years, running like a drunkard, but well loved. And just for the record any animal injury, one should consult a vet and not give it Tylenol Back then it was different and we did what we could to help the situation. Now, I would have called a vet.

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