Ass Spelunking Holiday and a General Lack of Class

Where to start? Please note that this is not going to be in any type of chronological or logical order for that point. Just getting it out there. We temporarily lifted the fart moratorium here at Casa de Flatulent Free. Mr Man had to go for an Ass Spelunking (not sure if it warrants being capitalized but I'm guessing 45 ft of cinematic equipment up your ass probably does) and of course they puff you up like Rocco the Clown blows up balloon animals. I'm pretty sure that the doctor, nurses and random orderlys have never been thanked nearly so much and in general complimented for their services. Apparently Mr Man on anesthesia = super sweet Chatty Cathy. He told all of us how wonderful the hospital was and how great everybody treated him. He waved and told anyone in sight good bye. Luckily we avoided the parade wave, but not by much. I got him home and on the couch under a couple of blankets and gave a wide berth for the deflation process. Happy to report that the fart truce is back in full force.

Any body who's anyone knows that I am not a holiday type of person. I am not Scrooge, I just don't like them....haven't since I don't know when. It's not just limited to Christmas, I hate Thanksgiving and New Years too. If sleeping from about the third week of November until oh say mid March was acceptable behavior then I would be the first to sign up. I do really really look forward to going to see the Wizard of Oz play every year. Mr Man has taken me the last 3 years. We always go to the Sunday matinee. (*That reminds me of something but in attempt of not being completely random I'll come back to that.) There is always a kid adult ratio of about 500:1 and at least half of them are dressed like little Dorothy's...with little ruby slippers on...they are so cute. I just want to pinch their little heads off. Every single year walking in I say the exact same thing "Fuck...we forgot our kid". But I digress. We rush to the little concession stand and thanks to the new NC only one drink at a time law we get our little thimbles of wine and try not to spill it...note to the Carolina Theatre concession planning gods...price is not the issue...hell I'll give you 15 bucks for a solo cup next year. With all those kids I need it. It is however, the best play ever. Me and daddy always watched it on TV together and I love it.

So I was fresh off my Wizard buzz when I saw this ad in the paper for A Christmas Carol at the Palace Theatre. Well here's my logic...if a little community theatre group and pull off awesome then a big ass tourist trap is going to rock...Right? I talk Sharon into going with us with the allure of injecting a little class and culture into our otherwise bar filled Sunday afternoons. The road to the catching of hell is paved with good intentions. I actually stopped drinking and had water at lunch so I wouldn't be trashed...plus I was looking forward to 5 or 6 wine thimbles to get me through. The smarter ones in the crowd continued beering. So we get in and at the concession stand...Dr Pepper and popcorn. FUCK ME RUNNING...REALLY?? And there were at least 2 hoverounds buzzing in front of us. Note...they were the only things buzzing. Sharon was already threatening my ass kicking. Me being the ever salvager remind them of culture. The opening scene...thunder, strobes, spinning white dresses...this is going to be great. Let's just say that the wad was shot. Within the first 5 minutes they shook an imaginary rug and knocked on and opened an imaginary door. IMAGINARY!! WTF?! I paid 30 bucks a ticket...you can't tell me there wasn't a fucking rug backstage some where in front of a real door.

At half time or intermission or what-the-fuck-ever it was Sharon and Mr Man pretty much unleash on me. Still being the genius in the crowd I suggest we visit the cooler in the car. As we stand in the parking lot of the Palace Theatre in broad daylight...tailgaiting...Sharon holds up her beer and toasts to class and culture. We determined that it can't be bought...even for $30. We bar hopped the rest of the day.

I struggle to remember a good Christmas, not that all of them weren't. But 2 years ago Christmas was the last time that I saw my daddy not in a hospital bed and the last time that he really knew me. He played with his boxes and tissue paper like a little kid would. He ate his oyster stew with a fork. As bad as it was, I failed to see that that was it and inside of 3 ugly months he would be gone. Last night was a little tough...today is better. After Mr Man dried my tears I livingroom danced with Carletta cat to Bob Marley's Three Little Birds. Don't worry about a thing...cause every little things gonna be alright...

*Back to matinee. I have a new source of blog worthy one liners. We'll call him my Mr B. Last week he came across with a good one. "I remember when a matinee was something to look forward to...now it's just an old fucking movie." Classic.

Veteran's Day

I come from a generation of little patriotism. One that relates Veteran's Day more to advertised sale events than to soldiers and one that remembers most of Presidential affairs and mishaps since it is what was plastered all over the TVs. I remember Desert Storm as a teenager but barely more than the fire fights at night that looked more like fireworks. It seemed distant, and well, like a TV show. The violence of mainstream media has numbed us to tragedy in real life. News of the war blends away into the gray of over information and political agendas. Even the coverage of the war in Iraq now seems more like arguments between our leaders. Lost almost completely from sight and thought are the ones who have given up life as we know it to do without question what they are told. Fighting for choices made for them and going into everyday with the chance of not coming out of it.

Living with Mr Man has completely opened my eyes. He served in Vietnam and faced those same every days before I was born. I realize that whether it was WWII or Vietnam or Iraq, it's all still the same. What our soldiers do in the line of duty and endure, our cushy pampered asses can't even imagine. And they do it to keep our obliviously happy lives just that way. So from a converted open eyed child of the 70's....Thank You.

Joe Typical Monday

Today we spent the day on the boat. No particular destination, just bloody marys and lunch. The waterway is full of big boats heading south for the winter. At one point I asked why you have to be 70 before you get to kayak in the Keys....Mr Man said he didn't have the answer for me. That was the only question that he couldn't answer...and he doesn't always wait for a question asked to tell me stuff. I love that he teaches me things...random smartness that only he would have the patience to pass along...the kind of things my strange sponge mind just latches on to and I remember forever. I love love that we can spend the day together and talk non-stop or we can putz down the water at sailboat speed and just BE. And I love love love that he has no need to try to break me and change me from the quirky weird little girl that I am.

Odd Planetary Alignment in the Fur Kindgom

First let me start by saying that this time change is ruining my life. All I want to do in my non-work spare time is sleep. Sleep late...nap...work...bed. Actually I'm pretty sure I've had this exact same issue every year about this time. It's like girl hibernation or something. No matter how much I sleep it's just not enough....not like barely not enough...more like no fricking where close to enough. And it sucks. I don't feel any better now that I've shared that but I can move on. Still tired though.

Am I the only one that's noticed that squirrels are in heat? Maybe its just in my tee tiny corner of the world but the horny flirty squirrels are running a muck all over the neighborhood...I'm pretty glad its not just in our yard. I would hate to be know as the people with the exhibitionist squirrels.

And its deer fucky season too. I've seen them at night coming home and even in the day time running around in neighborhoods. Nanners man Curly rolled one over the hood of his car on a busy main road last week. Worried about the dented hood or left behind deer hair??....No. He was worried about his bike that was on the rack on the back of the car. As deer spokes person I will pass along their official statement.

Dear Curly,
Deers don't have thumbs so there is no real worry of gangs of rouge deer yutes* distracting you by throwing the short straw holder in front of your car while the others jack your mountain bike off the rack. Plus we prefer girl bikes...our hips don't really allow the flexibility for the high leg throw required to mount a boy bike. And we prefer beach cruisers...you know, no hand breaks...back to that damn opposing thumb issue.

Sorry for the inconvenience,
The "They" counsel of deer

*reference to My Cousin Vinnie...its only funny if I don't have to explain everything.

On to other furry impressiveness. Roger and Beaver has both stepped up their game as of late. My super passive, let every dog at the dog park molest him dog has finally had enough and has scratched his paw line in the sand. Mr Man, fending for himself the other night heated up a frozen dinner. After he was finished the gave the little plasty bowl to the dog to lick clean. (note- highlight of dog day) The ruler of the house, aka the cat, has recently developed a taste for biped food, so of course as self appointed world leader she headed over to get her a little bit of whatever the dog was going on about. (I've actually seen her eat out of his bowl while he stood back looking like WTF?...yet do nothing) But then it happened. Fueled by his frozen dinner remnants he sprouted kahunas and GROWLED!! "BITCH this is beef chow fun FUCK YOU!!" Apparently Beef Chow Fun gravy is something to growl about...hence the fun. I have never been so proud...I only wish I could have been there to see it...kinda like missing first steps I suppose.

Lastly, in the Beaver update. A few weeks ago we went to the Panthers spanking...I mean game and met Nanner and a friend. Of course Beaver made the trip so that he could tailgate with us. He was spotted and approached by tailgate neighbors (as any celebrity would have been). These guys, despite being Bills fans and kind of not knowing it was a 4 o'clock game, were cool guys. They'd been tailgating since 9am which may kinda sorta explain the approaching of the Beaver...but none-the-less they wanted their pictures taken with Mr GQ.

Noteable quote of the day "Holy shit...it's only 2:30...I've got to get my life together". Mr Western Shirt and the big guy admitted to being life partners...but in a non-gay way. Beave just dug the attention...although they thought he might want to consider a first name change...

One Year or Eighteen...

This week marks the one year anniversary of my exit from main stream corporate america. It was one year ago today that I found out that I no longer had employment, insurance, income or security. I'm sure I was scared and freaked out, but looking back I honestly don't recall it.

This week also marks what would have been my 18 year anniversary if I'd have stayed on the merry-go-round to hell that was my first marriage. I remember more about my "feelings" from that day, I would classify it as dead between "You can't fucking tell me what to do" and "RUN!!!" Hind sight says I should have gone with Door#2, but alas I was much more of a rebel at the time vs. an intuitive decision maker. Still having a strong streak of both I am happy to inform that they have pretty much flip flopped as of late.

Daddy's birthday is next week. He would have been 64. Seems hard to believe that he's missed his last two. Time marches on...and at an alarming pace. It doesn't feel like I've been "getting by" for a year nor does it feel like I am old enough to have been old enough 18 years ago to make dumbass matrimony choices.

Looking back life is made up of warm and cold spots. The warm spots are the people and times and things that make you smile every time your thoughts drift their way. The cold spots are the idiots and stupid ass crap you cross paths with that make you seriously question if maybe your mom smoked crack when she was pregnant with you...because there's really no other logical explanation to why you subjected yourself to the shit. Fortunately and unfortunately I have a lot of both. I have to admit the cold spots only make the warm spots feel warmer. And I'm a stronger person for having survived and made my way through the tough and not so smart times.

Fast forward one year?? It feels good to know I've found a travel partner to venture down the road with, but where that will be...I have absolutely no clue...and that's Awesome. Right now?...the water is warm come on in.

It's My Own Damn Fault

To borrow a Buffett line. If it's not some one's already shitty marriage falling apart or some one's devastated broken heart, it's someone all alone and martyring over everything...and some how it's all interrelated and has a common axis. It's all my fault. I'm one important center of all blame, all powerful muthafucker. How is it that one damn person has that kind of impact? For once everyone stand up and be fucking accountable. Your marriage falling apart might have more to do with never working, cooking, cleaning or putting out. Your devastated broken heart may have something to do with jerking off to Internet porn and soliciting strangers for a good discreet fuck and the ignoring of me in the meanwhile. And all alone may be exactly what I have been the majority of my life, so don't be surprised when I stay in the shell when dealing with death and family. I obviously could rule the world, if according to all of them, my magic wasn't being wasted on evil. WTF. Leave me alone.

Enter stage Cold Bitch.

The Great Mayo Bust

Very similar to the 55 pack of oatmeal conquest, I recently won the battle with 3 jars of mayonnaise that Mr Man had in the fridge... Duke's regular, Duke's light and Miracle Whip. Who needs a different mayonnaise for different applications and situations...really now. You have to know me and if you do, you know that I am the kind to share my progress any and every time I find myself standing in the refrigerator door. So finally after much ado I/we manage to finish off all 3 jars...to be replaced by ONE jar of Duke's Light. Only because its stupid to exercise and take 45 vitamin and supplements a day to keep cholesterol down then just shoot it in the ass with the mayo...you don't have to agree cause I know I'm right. Much grumbling ensued from one Mr. Man to which I reply something along the lines of "Really..shut up you'll get use to it."

So then it happened, busted. I picked up a grocery receipt that was lying on the counter just to see how much was spent (I try to keep up with my turn/his turn on groceries and stuff). There is was in black and white...proof of condiment betrayal behind my back. Duke's Regular artery clogging mayonnaise. I shriek, of course, because its what I do and yell "OMG you bought regular mayo!!!" Mr. Man says nothing, turns and runs full out to the laundry room, slams the door and makes his best 2 year old attempt at hiding. So as I'm beating on the body blocked door yelling "I can't believe you...where is it??" I hear snorting from the other side. It took a while but I found it...and yes he had actually hidden the mayonnaise from me. His response to all this, "Well if you weren't being so nosey I would have gotten away with it". I am obviously some Hitler like kitchen tyrant. Some where along the line he has also snuck another jar of Miracle Whip into the scene. So here we are back at square 1 with 3 jars of mayo in the fridge. Completely goes against my minimalist way of life. Let it be known there are also 3 jars of the same kind of pickles in there too. Anyone care for a pickle coated in mayo and oatmeal??

While I'm on the subject...remember that refrigerator that I cleaned remnants of a dead body or something out of? Well lets just say I shoulda left it dirty. The freshly fully remodeled rental/for sale house got broken into last week. Ok, the house was empty...wtf? Let me clarify...its EMPTY NOW...they jacked my fucking refrigerator. Bet they would've left it if it still had body parts and kool aid all in the bottom of it. Just a note to anyone who's thinking of a possible career in fridge jacking...do me a favor and bring some damn hand trucks with you so you don't f-up my new floor next time. And btw just so you are fully informed, there's no insurance for thievery on rental policies thankyouverymuch.

Now for the visual update portion of the show.

Obviously miss priss needed an unobstructed view...

He no doubt knows who rules the roost.

"Alright you stupid biped...put that damn camera down...you're screwing with my chi"

Dwight Yoakam, Hermit Life and Alligator Shoes

Big happenings here in the small town to report. Last week I took Rogo dog out for his morning poo and across the street from the house there was a car haphazardly pulled off the side of the road and a golf cart. The chick from the car was on the phone and I figured, had broken down. She kept trying to make eye contact but me being the hermit in training that I am and master eye contact diverted avoided it. After poo success and return to the house, Mr. Man asked what was going on across the street, to which I replied "Dunno, think the car is dick down". And he was all like "well why's the law out there?" Upon nosey inspections I realize that we now have the previously assumed dick down car, a golf cart, two unmarked and one marked police cars and a small gathering of bored neighbors. Several dudes with guns were tromping around in the high weeds looking for something. Still we remained inside. Then we see that the chunky eye contact girl has a small audience and is pointing up at our house and reliving some sort of a story. I give the all clear for Mr Man to go get into the mix, so he does.
After he hears what the pointing is about he comes back to get me. It seems that an ALLIGATOR CAME OUT FROM UNDER MY SHU!! (Note to the unknowings - The Shu is what we all lovingly refer to my sticker ridden Toyota Matrix as.) So I join the party from a distance and just hangout in the driveway to watch the master alligator captors. They used one of those loop on a stick thingys and got him around the neck. He was maybe 3 foot long-ish. The really high tech portion of the capture and relocation process was when they rolled the neighbors trashcan down and chunked the alligator in for a ride. An old guy drug the can into the back of a pickup and off they go with the old dude sitting on the tool box behind the cab and one Mr Alligator taking his, what I would assume, first car ride.
The chunky girl left and the neighbors went in and life resumed normal. It just never would have occurred to me to call 911 over seeing an alligator...but that's why we're all different I suppose. I figured he had some where he was going and could handle it on his own. Beaver had a whole different story about Alvin the Alligator which is just too bizarre to share, but I am seriously considering writing a series of children's books...clean talk and all.

Country music's 50 sexiest videos were on way too late and I was on rum number 40something and got sucked in. Can you believe that a back in the day Dwight Yoakam video is still in the mix? I saw him on something recently and he's still wearing the same damn jeans...number one how does he get them on and number two does he buy them in the little boys department at Sears or what? I have a Dwight Yoakam story that I still tell. Back in my previous life when I was married the first time for about a minute and a half...I really can't explain that one AT ALL. I was 18 and I'd recently been granted my I can do anything I want card and I intended to play it. And play it I did. Unfortunately I had no prior gambling experience and wound up the loser with a loser in a Chevette and a 2nd shift cotton mill job knocking down about $120 a week. There's a lesson that my parents never taught me that would have come in kick ass handy on this one. It's called classes. There are different classes of people and you do best to stick within your class. Not that I don't think that we are all human and put our undies on the same way and should be treated with respect and all. Just that maybe you shouldn't marry say a 30 year old that sleeps on a mattress in the floor in a room with all of his old enough to be outta mama's house siblings. (Including one over 500 pounder...how that one got up and down to that floor sleeping arrangement is still beyond me) For a while his daddy did a stint as his uncle and vice versa. But I was firmly squatted directly in the center of my rebellious years and tended to do more things based on what I was told that I would not do than anything else. At least that's what I'm going to blame it on and I'm sticking with my answer. Did I mention that I was wife number 3!!!
But I digress...Somehow ole Dwight got lost in the fruckus there didn't he? I don't remember much about X round one but I do know he hated country music. So when the Dwight Yoakam concert was scheduled me and my friend Phyllis bought us 2 tickets for girls night out. This went over like a terd in a punch bowl...there may have been a few jealousy issues...along with a loose marble or two. So about a week or so later he announced that he and his younger brother had tickets and wanted to bum a ride..."Umm no...get your own way...its a girls night". We were near the bitter end of this train ride folks. Before the concert could roll around that bitter end showed its ugly face. But shit happens and we carry on. Phyllis and I were sitting in our seats awaiting our skinny man in tight jeans when I hear someone say "fuck" and look up to see none other than little brother with thank god someone else in tow. Yep...their seats were RIGHT BESIDE OURS!! I'm pretty sure that would have been a violation of the restraining order in any state. Needless to say we went for drinks and wound up way far away bogarting seats in another section. Still...freaky right? And still I prove that my life on paper looks like ass.

In other happenings my unemployed partner in crime has gone back to school (I still don't know why I call myself unemployed...I've never worked so damn much in my life). Nanner's going to learn to do facials and skin treatment and rip hair out of nether regions. On the second day of class they were banned from using razors (on anything) so that in 3 weeks there would be plenty to practice on in Hair Removal 101. Can you say lap cat?? I did tell her we may have the answer to my "if left unattended would my armpit hair crest my elbow?" question. http://earthyedgyunfiltered.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-am-possibly-weirdest-person-i-know.html
Since her classes are all day and I work the night shift (at least not in a cotton mill) my circle of communication is down to one Mr Man. Which officially makes me one step away from hermitism. Speaking of hermitism...while watching the rolling channel guide on mute I see a show call The 650lb virgin...wow...ya reckon.

Permanent Change

This week I went online and completed my permanent change of address. The temporary one is running out and they only allow you to be of temporary status for 6 months. Six months...twice as long as I lived in the little apartment. It seems like forever ago that I hoofed it to the laundry room but in actuality its only been 3 of these six month things. When choosing between temporary or permanent in parentheses it says "most moves are permanent". Is anything ever permanent?? I guess that was my act of accepting that I won't ever live in my house again. I've started changing the colors here to what I had in the other house. I'm not calling it home anymore. I think its a little uneasy admitting that you have no idea where you are going and as long as I was temporary, I felt like my life might return to any form of normal. I'm not complaining for sure, but it feels more like I'm on hiatus than life. Not sure if that's from years of doing stuff you hate for money that buys you only things that tether you. You can't exactly shake the feeling that you should be doing something more. I guess that's why I've never really been an underachiever.
So as I sit here under the buzz of the ceiling fans and reggae music at the new bartending gig I wonder...where will life go from here? As long as I have my Mr Man traveling companion, my trusty Roger dog, finicky Carletta Cat and the ever helpful insight of the Beav.....I'm good to go.

Catch Up

First I need to start by saying that the cable network is largely in need of the Earthy Edgy Unfiltered channel. It would consist of back to back episodes of the only my favorite stuff. Ace of Cakes, Deadliest Catch, LA Ink, Diners Drive-ins & Dives, Survivorman, Man vs Food and of course some Law & Order and a little Sex in the City to balance everything out. Why doesn't anyone just do as I say and put everything I like on the same channel at a time when I can watch it?? I know what you're going to say...that's what tivo is for. I'm just refuse to succumb to that much technology in my life. Hell, I still deal with the rolling channel guide.

Lately I've been doing a lot of reading and when I do, I tend to get lost in the figment of someone else's imagination and their stories. Thus I don't have the pressing need to express so much. It's not that I haven't had plenty of exciting to shit to pass along, it just hasn't materialized into words. Couple that with my intermittent at best internet service...whichever neighbor I bootleg from has either the shittiest ever wireless router or I live approximately 5.8 miles from the signal source. Either way I average 1 day on for every 3 days off normally. So as of right now my journal officially has sand in it. I can't lie...I brought my book too, just in case "sharing" got boring.

To back up and start with the beginning of what you've missed. Last year for my 35th birthday Mr Man gave me the means to put a check beside one of my bucket list items for reasons that are too lame in retrospect to rehash, I didn't get around to skydiving until April 30th...of this year. With a year of taking the proverbial ass kicking from the Universe or getting myself in vibrational alignment as I prefer to call it...I was due to make that check mark. It wasn't as big of a rush as I anticipated. Actually the reality and coolness of it didn't sink in until I saw the pictures and video. At which point I realized I was just hanging out and free falling where airplanes fly with no tethers to this earth or anything at all (with exception to the dudero that was strapped to my back). Pretty freaking awesome. And apparently there are tons of folks that have no desire to experience this at all. To you I can honestly say ...I don't get you.

Key West was a work / semi-vacation. Work for Mr Man - Vacation for me - Semi in the sense that it went by ENTIRELY too fast. We rented bikes and tooled about the island without a care that the A&M Bike Rental tag zipped tied to the basket just screamed tourist. We only considered ourselves part tourist since we live on an island and deal with idiot tourist constantly, we can fully relate to the locals. That being said we REALLY try to not be like those that drive us nuts. We had breakfast at Harpoon Harry's on Caroline St...that's a little tradition of my own...not something that can be skipped. I managed to take in Eating at Pepe's...this is now on my list of things not to skip. The place has been there since 1890 something and has a tree as the roof. Old mismatched chandeliers hand down form the branches to light the little tables. I ate at the bar which is covered with a little tin roof. I had homemade granola with plain yogurt with strawberries, kiwi, bananas and melons. It was beyond good descriptive words. I would have loved to see what they had for dinner...next trip.

True to character we laid low and just enjoyed our time there and together. On the drive back to Islamorada we were starving and pulled into the first little dive we came upon. It was Mile Marker 20 Mangrove Mama's. Those impromptu roadside stops always prove to be our best finds. I ate the best clams and garlic bread of my life. The waitress was Missy - to her friends and Bitch to the people who really knew her. I did something different on this trip....I memorized faces of the people. I normally never pay much attention to people and I didn't even realize I'd done it but thinking back I have the faces of chance meaningless encounters frozen in time.

I even found the cove to do my boat living tucked away on the Gulf side of Islamorada.

This is the Lorelei...we wandered around in the rain and found the cove and docks where I plan on practacing my transceint skills.
This guy and his dog were hauling folks back and forth from the moring fields. Roger put in his application already.

Ran into this piece of work angling on the tourists for tips...

Things I didn't know....that Mr Man can do a mean horny hen impersonation...I saw some of the Keys chickens wondering about in a parking lot and went to get a few pictures. Mr Man proceeds to start bocking and we were rushed by no less than 6 roosters with woodys. Interesting hidden talent.

The one on the right was my favorite. He crowed and strutted and puffed up and shuck feathers.

As you can see...he was obviously the porn star of the group.

Actually I would allow the cats and dogs...to the list though I would add ex-wives and their felon boyfriends....

As I lay here in the sand and look around at the tourites I have to be in awe of my current situation and just how unjealous I am of anyone. I guess being happy in the now is the whole trick to life. Sure there are things that just haven't quite fallen into place and materialized in the physical world just yet, but they are already there in my mind. I can't help but think "Wow, how great is this!"

The Felon The Whore & new character enters scene

So I missed my birthday post yesterday. Mainly because I had planned an awesome post about skydiving and turning 36 @ 120 mph, but it wound up being cancelled due to low cloud cover. True to form, I had no back up plan and layed around all day nursing a sore throat and a semi-hangover (Nothing to do with each other - Note to self - build drinking muscle back up before Key West trip).

Last weekend Nanner brought the new man down for intro and inspection. There has been much, much debate about how to spell the name I gave him. (Of which I am just glad he didn't rip my tail off for calling him.) He didn't want any weird gay french spelling and try as we might we couldn't work cajun in without looking french so Boodrow (redneck as it looks, does not look gay) was agreed upon. So anyhow, Boodrow made it through the introductions and hellos and promptly rips Cow's ass off. I guess he wanted to go ahead and let us know up front what we were dealing with and that he was not to be f-ed with....kinda like in prison. As I held poor mangled Cow Rogo dog looks up and me with the look of "Dude...that guys is bad ass". Cow will recover with a few plastic surgery stitches but we all got his point...maniac.

Roger cradling poor injured Cow.

A close up of the carnage.

I think the most excitement came the next morning when she realized that he had not ran out of the house in the middle of the night....even after Beaver came out and went over the house rules. (I blocked his car in...limiting his fleeing options). Boodrow is officially approved of by all us crazies. Pretty much because he says "WDF...wet deck furniture" His forewarning to us about the possible butt wettedness on the deck. I can like a person looking out for my butt comfort (lets not talk about Cow right now).

Random - Is mosquito sex good? And exactly how long does it last? I lost interest and wandered off (for those who know me...know that doesn't take much) I figured it was just better to ask the question as to sit and watch it...seemed intrusive.

In other news - Mr Man's X has finally ventured onto the dating field. This in itself is AWESOME news. I hope it means that she's letting go of bad feelings and moving on to a happier place. Like maybe she'll possibly not call me a whore more than twice in a sentence now. Dude that she went out with is an acquaintance and cool guy. I ran into him recently and birthdays came up (I tell everyone hoping to get a present or at least a drink). Something he said didn't add up right to the age he had earlier claimed and I asked again. With no more provocation the WHOLE story came out. Without details I will only say felony was mentioned.

I've decided to let Beaver and all of his infinite wisdom have a chance to speak at the end of all of my blogs...you know, he can get by with saying so much more than I can...Beaver's quote for today "Felon trumps Whore any day".

What have I been up to you ask??

Yes, I am still alive and kicking. Kicking shit around a rental house (literally). So back in mid March after many many attempts of getting in touch with my renters (it seems every time you are late with your Cricket phone payment they just give you a new number...convenient.) Mr Man did a 3 1/2 hour drive by to see what was up. It was no huge surprise that they had moved out without bothering to tell me. (Can you say NO DEPOSIT FOR YOU!...I feel like the soup Nazi) So, no panicking, I took 3 days off of work and we went to do some cleaning and painting. I knew they let their less than potty trained dog stay in the house during the super cold part of winter but had already sent the registered "get the dog the fuck out of the house" letter and it seemed to work ok. Um...well...NO. My best guess is that they moved because it stunk so bad they couldn't breathe in there. No shit. Well actually...I had to bust out the scrapper blade on said shit in at least 3 rooms. And here's a question for you average americans...if you say drop gum on your bedroom floor, what would you do? Nope...wrong answer...apparently you step on it and pretend you have a fucking sidewalk in your bedroom. Dude. We made it to day 2 of cleaning before we had our first gag....it was me. I was in one of the bedroom closets and had to remoisten a petrified terd and scrape it...then it came....GGGAACCCK....GGGAACCKK. I made a formal announcement that we had our first gag. It seems my gag reflex is closely associated with the visual aspect of gross ass. Mr Man on the other hand apparently is more of a smell then gagger....which happened about 15 minutes later when something he ran into behind the stove made him almost call RALPH for a ride in the BBUUICK. The good news, if you can call it that, is that the bathroom was so OMFG nasty that we didn't even attempt to clean it. Its being gutted and replaced....someone would have yaked in there for sure...and it just wasn't worth the trip to the health department or the explanation to my doctor of how I managed to contract what ever funk ass disease that was lurking in there. Again I say...Dude. Trust me...the pictures do not do it justice. And I seriously think the dog pound might smell better.

I should have taken one after I took the drawers out of the refrigerator...I had to sweep it out before I could clean it...which required the scraper (most used tool of the week). Please bear in mind that this fridge is about a year old...I bought them a brand new one instead of a crappy used one...we'll call that one hind sight. And here's the scene from behind it...how the hell do you manage to get that much shit behind a refrigerator???

So needless to say, I decided this was not a do it yourselfer...I hired a dude to do it all...he "has a guy" that can do all that he can't. So far it looks like I am into this for about 6-7 grand. (You have to factor in the long term cost of living with whatever disease I could have contracted and I'm pretty sure paying dudro is still coming out ahead.) And another needless to say...I will going about the renting game with a new Super Bitch strategy.

ps. Keeping my normal zen like even keel outlook has proven to be a bit tough. Of late, I have used a little more of the sailor talk than normal.

pss. New awesome remodel pictures to come.

Random...more so than usual

So last night I decided to jot down the things I caught myself saying out loud to, well myself. Here's what we came up with in chronological (unedited) order. I'm sure that this wasn't all of them...I know Beaver spoke a time or two but it was before I started documenting.

"Tomorrow I may have Lucky Charms" I said and broke the silence between myself and Sailor Jerry (that'd be a rum in case I lost you there). The cat looked up but maintained unimpressed. No response from the dog.

"I can't believe I've watched an hour of this shit" About a celebrity look a like makeover that was actually one the rolling channel guide channel so you only get like half a screen. (Loser.)

"I'm pretty funny" - not sure what the hell I did to bring this one out but I made myself laugh before I said it.

"Stop sniffing that...Rocky the Raccoon was in that bush wasn't he...I'm troubled by that" really said more to Roger than myself but out loud without a human in earshot.

"Dang...I'm staggering...nice" while standing in the front yard looking up at the stars and waiting on the dog to pee.

"A trip...oh wow, I tripped and my hair fell" in response to the Tresome 24 hour body dumbass hair commercial.

"Oooo fuckin' A this shits gonna be good" about some leftover bread from work with the Promise cardiologist recommended butter stuff on it @ 12:45. I kinda missed dinner last night.

Other Randomness
I've got to google baked kidneys....I'm starting to worry that my time spent on the heating pad may be cooking my innerds. Now that I'm oh what...a 150 years old and stand for 8 hours every night my frickin back hurts so I come home and sometimes sit on the heating pad (like last night) and always sleep on it. It cuts itself off after like 2 hours but I'm thinking I could be slow roasting my organs...Is this a legitimate concern?? Or am I turning into one of those crazy f-ers like I work with??

The official oatmeal countdown is 17 remaining. To update those unaware, Mr Man bought one of those big ass boxes of oatmeal from Costco. 55 packs. 55. Me and my little twisted mind have been trying to conquer it. I have taken them out and counted wwway to many times so at 29 I wrote the number on the box and started marking it with a sharpie. So 17 after this morning. I could have this thing done by my birthday. Of course, Mr Man is never in the mood for oatmeal (imagine that) so I'm battling the sex oatmeal on my own. Until I started the new counting system I was convinced the little packs where screwing and making more little packs. I have dispelled that theory now.

I got a catalog in the mail yesterday and did an out loud YAY at the mailbox. I have pages already dog-eared and everything. I'm so stoked. Then I realized it may go along with my grocery store shoes fashion taste. Its the Bass Pro Women's collection. (Thats where I got my lesbanese camoflauge shorts that I wore like every other day last summer). So here's to more dike dressing this summer.

So this morning I talked to Nanner and told here I'd written down my outbursts last night...her comment "Let me guess, one involved a terd". See...I'm not as predictable as one may assume.

Ran across this in my journal...not sure if I've every posted it, so here ya go.
My individuality and free thinking are what make me, ME. If you are not aware of said individuality then you absolutely do not know ME. Beliefs and lack of normal beliefs are what define ME.

One Year

One year ago today I was witnessing the most horrific process of life, the end. I can still see it as if it happened 10 minutes ago. Mr Man would probably tell me that I've had a pretty good life if the safe confines of Hospice falls at the top of my worst experiences. And he would be right.

I guess I'm most surprised by just how fast this magically suspended ball is spinning and just how much can happen in what seems like no time at all. I would have been hard pressed to believe any of my current life if the future fairy had swooped in and told me. In the same breath, I realize now that I have absolutely no clue about the still just out of sight future either. We think we can plan and know and think things through but there's really no way. Jobs go away...people die before they should...the punches of the universe come when least expected and you either get the shit kicked out of you or you learn to roll. I am a self professed master roller. I just kinda keep in mind the big things I want and just keep taking the next logical steps. (Things I want = Love, happiness and getting by with what I have comfortably...not waiting for "someday" to be content.) What we really truly "need" can be compacted into the top drawer in a worn out nightstand at Hospice when it all comes to an end.

I don't think Daddy did what was the norm. He was 35 when he stepped off the path and went the way that felt best to him. It turned out to be exactly what he was supposed to do and it all fell into place. I guess even in our vast differences in beliefs, at the core we are very similar.
He was random and happy and his mind went a million miles an hour. He would finish a sentence out loud that you hadn't had the privilege of hearing the first part of. His boing-y Tigger like personality made him goofy and refreshing at the same time.

I've looked at life and the real reason we're here more in the last year than most I guess....and I haven't come to any earth shattering conclusions. I think I'll just continue my soul guided wandering at the casual laid back stride of living life in 3/4 time.

New Hair New Paint New Shoes

A picture is worth a thousand words...all adding up to the fact that I am a huge dork. I just bought shoes at Food Lion...and to make that matter even worse...I'm enthrawed with them. I made Roger sit beside them for a photo opp. You can see he is quite less than entertained...even he knew it was a cornball idea.

Noteables- The freshly stained and painted deck (the several week project Mr Man & myself have been working on)...my obvious kick ass fashion taste in shoes from the grocery store....and Rogo's new sporty sexy summer time dog hair cut, bandana and pink dick...strange how people quit asking "her" name post shave down.

Mr Man just told me to pack the cooler and make us a bloody mary...we're off to Provision Company to have the first shrimp burger of the year. Its not really a trek but no sense in getting thirsty on the way.

Crazy Crazy Everywhere

I don't know if there is a heavy concentration of crazy around the coast or maybe it's everywhere and I've managed to shelter myself, but we have a serious issue with the crazies running rabid here. I've adapted a new way of communicating with said crazies. I do something similar to a bobble head nod...divert eye contact and just wander away. They don't seem to notice that I've pulled an exit stage left on them. Or possibly they think I'm the crazy head bobbing wanderer....who knows. Let me give you a couple of examples. One dude told me about a pet tarantula he had with a sense of humor. Charlotte (which is about the least crazy part of the story) would crawl up and sprawl across his face when he was sleeping. Now I know to an outsider this is closely akin to my talking Beaver doing movie reviews, but trust me it ain't even close. He's also heard from several sources that there are giant tree spiders in Florida (like 2ft in diameter) and he wants one. It seems his childhood was scarred by the learning that giant spiders didn't exist....bobble...walk away.

And we have the 2 hour a day bottle juggling, Tom Cruise dreaming, $150 van purchasing dude that's considering jacking someone elses tags because the $30 it would cost him seems a bit elusive. Bear in mind "I worked 65 hours at my other job last week". All I can figure is all of that bottle slinging on the couch that he probably doesn't own, must be one sporty ass habit to support...bobble...walk away.

Standing at the end of the bar getting food to go I spotted him...not Jesus...Elvis. Apparently he works for one of those singing dancing tourist traps down here...hopefully. The one thing I can't get my arms around is why all the impersonators have to have the I'm fat as hell and about to go take the death poopie Elvis look?? Where are all the young good looking hip thrusting ones?? Not getting pasta to go @ 4:30 I can tell you that. I almost asked for a picture but thought better of it. Although it would have been a great blog post it would have no doubt involved the bobble.

Lastly but considered most entertaining in my book, Nanner called and told me about the Baptist church marque she'd seen on the way home the night before. It said "If Jesus comes tomorrow will you be ready?" Her first thought "Hell, why not, I'm just going to be on the couch...the calendar is pretty open these days".

Elvis is here, Jesus is coming and I'm rocking the high end of the totem pole.

Coastal Confessions

As I drove over the bridge to the island today I realized just how close I am to the big pond now and I had to wonder...is this what escaping feels like? I've always had run in my blood, and I've always wanted to step out of "life" as we know it, run away from everything and just get a bar tending gig somewhere on an island. This has been the dream since I was 20 years old and made my first trip to Bimini. The Kenny Chesney song Sherry's Living in Paradise comes to mind, every time I ever heard it, I just wished I could pull something like that off. Sherry's living in paradise, slinging drinks at a bar down by the beach, she's happy now it seems...Chasing something or running from something...had alot of lovers that were good for nothing. To me it sounds a lot better with my name in it.
This is the life that my Daddy lived for but never got to live. He always wanted to have a bike at the beach. The father's day before he died I bought him a huge tricycle...I was a year too late...he couldn't figure out how to get on it and when he did you had to run beside him and steer it for him. It seems easy enough in hind sight as most things do...I'm sure I'll never understand why he never just bought one. Sunday afternoon it was crazy warm for February and Mr Man and me put on shorts and rode our bikes. Then we sat on the deck in the sun and ate turkey burgers. You can see the waterway from right there in the chair and I've already declared it as my new favorite summer spot. So far as that dream I've alway had, I'd have to say I'm working on mission accomplished.

Rant

Not that I'm politically minded at all. And not that I know the complete story or the "big picture" but I just got off the phone with Nanner, my partner in crime or more be it lately, the sisterhood of the traveling unemployed goodwill pants. (We recently went out and realized that both of us were dressed in sweaters from the Goodwill store...sad but true.) And I am on a tear. It seems that part of the economic stimulus package includes 335 million dollars for STD teenage education and prevention. Um, ok...I'm confused... Please please someone tell me what itchy dick has to do with the f-ing economy?? Pass out some goddamn condoms and tell them to have at it....that's what they're going to do anyhow. I'm pretty sure the government could get the mongo packs from Costco for less that 335 million f-ing dollars! Not to mention the parents should have all the time in the world to talk about safe sex being that none of them have a damn job. If you get itchy dick go to the health department. I have ABSOLUTELY no room for this right now. And apparently there is a need for a 120 million dollar sod and general renovation needed for the "mall" since the grass got trampled on by a gazillion sonabitches last week. God knows we need the grass to look nice for all the homeless people to sleep on. I just think that we have more to worry about than fishy twat...there are in fact bigger fish to fry at the present.

Friday Night...HGTV muted

#1 - First and foremost...I start my first bartending gig on Monday!!! HOOTY HOO for me! I'm quite stoked. It's working 3 nights a week (which translates into - 3 nights a week I'm going to be sober) at a hotel bar but everything starts with baby steps...I'm just happy to be baby stepping on a new path...not to mention it's smoke free. Score me.

#2 - I downloaded pictures from the camera and realized all the shit I forgot to tell you about. We went to the boat show in Ft. Lauderdale the last of Oct / first of Nov. We didn't rent a car because you could walk a couple of blocks and take the ferry or a bus to any of the boat show sites. We were hoofing it across this big ass bridge when the horn blew and a little pedestrian railroad arm came down (idiot protection...which I completely disagree with...if a vertical f-ing wall of concrete and steel doesn't deter you I'm just thinking the human race might be stronger without ya) I was probably more entertained by it than I should have been...I even made Mr Man pose in front of it but he's made me swear no testosterone pics on the blog you just get the bridge....I was such a tourist.

Then we see this from the bridge....If I were a betting chick I would probably say these folks are not surviving off of unemployment like some of us are now...WTF is all I have to say. In case you can't make out the picture the first boat has 2 helicopters a couple of jet skis and a pool on the third deck. The next over has a Hummer, Mini Cooper, 2 jet skis, 3 motorcycles, a four wheeler and what looks to be about a 30 ft w/ 2 engines inside of it. (It doesn't show up in the picture but one of these f-ers has a blimp in the cargo garage. Again I say...wtf.

We did find this which seemed to be much more functional for our kind...

#3 - Finally something was done with the gazillion crab legs that we had frozen from the summers crab season. We funked up my house and picked crab meat for no less than like 3 hours or so....Picture 1 is a shot of the pre-picked crab legs...we had maybe 5 pots of them (really I don't remember...it just seemed like the crab legs where doing rabbit mating and it was killin' me). Picture 2 is of the entire amount of crab meat we wound up getting out of them. Now you must remember...this was two very efficient adults and this is all there was. Not our fault. It did make some quite kick ass crab soup. I bought some she crab and condensed milk and added our hours of labor crab. It was worth it but I doubt you'll catch us doing it again.




#4 -Itchy and Roger. It was a foggy morning and the Man and myself were taking Rogo dog to the beach to run wild when we passed what looked like a puppy on a rock pile in a construction area...we turned around to go rescue it and found Itchy the fox. Nothing we did seem to distract him from his apparent crab contraction from a Saturday night out cattin'. I am such a pansy ass when it comes to animals and felt sooo bad for this little dude but he made a great picture.


Mr Dog was not much in a running mood this day...he was still nursing a sprained paw (a stuffed cow incident gone awry) but he did look pretty handsome in his own dog way.

He wanted me to point out his nicely tucked abs....

#5 - Lastly I will leave you with my current box office recommendation. Nanner, Mr Man and myself went to see Gran Torino last night. It was awesome. All I have to say is there are some one liners worthy of adding to any daily vocabulary.

Halle-fucking-lujah

Stone-terd-henge & 2008 Reflection

The big news from a couple weeks back...my dog pooped Stonehenge! I walked him and was waiting for him to finish is dog bidness when I noticed him sniffing something. It was his terd standing straight up on end!! Like a BIG ONE. I took off running for the house yelling for Mr Man to get me the camera...then went running back to the field of said terd on end. Mr Man of course joined me since judging from my excitement it was something to behold. (note - he did not run like I did...matter of fact he didn't even walk fast but he did come to see it.) So I looked and looked and looked ...no terd statue. Then I found it...gravity had apparently won. I spun around and said "Stand it back up for me so I can get a picture!" I don't recall exactly but I think the response was something like "have you lost you f-ing mind". So no photo documentation...trust me I would have posted it.

2008 Review
A whole lot happens in a trip around the sun doesn't it? I've said it before but it worthies itself repeated. On paper 2008 looks a little rough. Having lived through the everydays of it I'd have to stand up and argue differently. I doubt I've ever experienced the amount of change in the same amount of time that the last 366 days have brought. Its not hard to pinpoint the one thing that had the biggest impact on me. And I guess in death's defense I've always teetered on the ledge and have been waiting for some time for something to blame for jumping off the ride. Mr Man and myself have the conversation on occasion that we have stood through more storms in the time we've been together than most people go through possibly ever. It's had a very zen like effect on me. We walked down to the boat landing last week with Roger to feed the seagulls old bread and a little over halfway there it started raining so we turned around...raining doesn't really describe it. It freakin poured...and thundered and I have a freak of a dog when it thunders. We found a porch to hang out on and talked about nothing in particular...then decided to walk on since it was probably not going to stop until May or something. If it wouldn't have been for the dog setting pace we probably wouldn't have even walked fast. This in the past would have shorted me out. There have been so many things that have happened that would rank at least 7.5 or higher on life's Richter scale that nothing really gets a rise out of me anymore. There's something to be said for even keel.
Christmas was ok...mom wasn't as weepy as I had anticipated...there was a big picture of daddy but it was odd being in their house and him not being there... but we carry on. New Years Eve last year was about as icky as Thanksgiving... Mr X had moved on from stalking to humping legs and bedding down any and all takers. This year was great...I was cuddled up in the bed with Mr Man and thanks to some drunk texter got woken up just in time to watch the ball drop.

I can honestly say I have no regrets this year...but here are some of the things I know now.
-I am not built for sobriety
-If you leave cat food out over night you will really be feeding Rocky the Raccoon
-Sex should not be limited to birthdays, holidays and special occasions
-If you run screaming thru the house that your multi color terd is stuck in the toilet it really doesn't translate well...or get the superhero help that you were hoping for
-The earth doesn't stop spinning or even slow down for anyone
-No matter what - They can't eat you
-The only things you regret in life are the risks you didn't take
-If you have a chance to be happy you grab it with both hands and the hell with the consequences

Maybe next year I'll start acting my age....turn a new leaf over my wicked ways....get a real job and start pulling my weight....only 365 day until I change my ways.