The Habit That Kicked Me Before I Kicked It

You might be real tired of hearing about it, but it is about to be Day 34 of my being smoke-free. Every day that I wake up, breathing better, feeling better - and, hell, just not making my sarcoidosis worse - I want to shout and dance like we used to do in church.

The cigarettes and I have a long and entertaining history. Think I'm kidding?

As I was telling +Marla Hughes and +J.D. Hughes last night, there was time when I walked to the store for cigarettes. Not that big of a deal to walk for the smoke, but this was 3 blocks from my job, I was wearing three and a half inch heels, a skirt and it was during the wettest, slip-tricky part of winter breakup. I must have looked like a jones'd-out hooker on my way back to my office, the way I was huffing and sucking on that cigarette...

There was another time that I learned to roll my cigarettes. (It's a sick habit when you are rolling something that isn't really going to mellow you out.) I learned the fine art of cigarette rolling because I had an unreliable husband and lived in the worst neighborhood I ever had. My husband kept the car (when we had one) and might disappear for days. Walking to the store that was down the street was out of the question. Being the slightly siddity, Bougie heifer I am, I was scared to walk to the mailbox without a security detail. Call me what you want, but the first chance I got, I bought a bag of tobacco, some tubes and a rolling machine. (My ex said I even went uppity in that respect. I guess most folks just use rolling papers.)

Like I said, cigarettes had my ass kicked several years before I kicked them. (Listen to me - talking like I've got years under the belt instead of a single month!) I would say that I had a bad thing going, but a friend of mine had it way worse to let her tell it. We worked at the same company but in different departments and, at one point, she had to spend a week on the night shift taking a class I was giving. During breaks, to keep herself alert, she told me stories of her life living and working outside an Indian reservation. I just about died laughing when she told me how she had let herself run out of cigarettes when she was without any transportation but a mule. The nearest, safest place for her to stock up was on the reservation - about six miles away. The funny part was when she demonstrated her riding that mule in dusky light to get to the store or whatever before it was too late. I asked if it was worth it. She said those were the best cigarettes she'd ever smoked in her life. At the time she was telling this to me, she had been smoke-free for about 10 years. 

I have another friend who almost lit her hair on fire. She was tossing a cigarette out of the car window (karma, karma) and it blew back in on her long hair. She damn near killed herself, trying to bat out the fire. 

Another friend got all dolled up for a date - fake hair, fake nails, tits might have been real - and, while lighting a cigarette, set an acrylic nail on fire. Had to dip her finger in her drink. Believe it or not, her and her date have now been married for a lot of years...

The most embarrassing things that have happened to me because of smoking have to do with bad luck, clumsiness and/or drunkenness. I have burned my fingers, burned my lips, and almost torched the front porch... (That last one was bad luck: Outside having a smoke, house phone rang, I dropped lit cigarette into what I thought was a paper cup with water in it. No water in cup. Cup lit up. Smoke alerted neighbor. I felt stupid. Shit, I could have felt homeless.) Once, when extremely drunk (off half a bottle of wine), I tried to put out a cigarette with my foot, forgetting I wasn't wearing shoes. I almost missed an important flight once because I just had to risk that smoke-break during a layover. Try leaving and re-entering Dallas-Ft. Worth airport's security with a twenty-minute window. Go ahead, try it.

Despite all the negatives to smoking, I can honestly say that cigarettes did serve some sort of purpose in my life. It was having a cigarette that saved my ex's life a couple of times. If I hadn't had that few minutes of smoking while I plotted, I might not have talked myself out of his murder. Think about it: no smoking in jail. There were times when the girls were teenagers and never had to find out what it would be like to have the taste slapped out of their mouths, the black beat off their asses or being knocked into a new year. This was all due to the calming influence of tobacco. Now that I think about it, my sister and I raised four kids and helped with another ten or twelve kids. I'm lucky that cigarettes is all I ever smoked. If I could drink, I'd have ended up an alcoholic, but I never get past the third glass of anything... Not to make light of it, but I'm pretty sure that crack was going to be next on my list of addictions.

Peace

--Free

It's Business Time!

+Spencer Bryant started something with this the other day. I have a friend who sent it to me and whenever he calls me now, instead of "Hello," I hear, "It's bizness, it's bizness..." before he is laughing too hard to finish.

Had to share this with more than the Google Plus crowd...

I seriously cannot watch this without laughing out loud - loudly. (My roommate has a crush on both these guys now. They are cute and so damn funny, I don't blame her.)




Um, okay - I couldn't leave you with just that one. This next one is the one I tease my friend with now:

I'm going to become their B.A.G. - Black Alaskan Groupie! ROFL

Peace

--Free

You Want Cute - Or Comedy?

The weather is apparently having a mood. Here in Anchorage, the temps have parked themselves in the 30-40F range for the past couple weeks. In Australia, they are having a heatwave the The Vandellas didn't sing about. A Net-friend of mine was down near Detroit and felt temps near the 60's,

What is really going on?

Whatever is happening, parts of me love it and part of me is worried. The happy parts are up top: my head and heart are just thrilled. My ass? Not so much. Because this is what the ground looked like today:

Just try switching your ass to walk cute. Break a bone you never heard of.

On the other hand, looking upwards, it was prettier:

 I kept my balance and did the "cute" walk long enough to be flirted with, but the poor man walked into a door while he was checking me out. (~sigh~ I still got it!)

When I checked on an auntie in Texas yesterday, I learned out Alaska temp was a few degrees warmer than Fort Worth's. That's some tricky business.

Hope things are safe wherever you are.

Peace
--Free

Laughing By Myself

You ever do something so stupid or silly or funny that you not only laugh at yourself, but have to call and tell someone else about it? Not me. Well... not often, but...

About five minutes ago, I damn near gave myself a heart attack.

Because I quit smoking (and because I am a lover of all things that smell good), my nephew bought me one of those automatic air freshener doo-dads. You know what I mean - the thing that spritzes the air every so often? Yeah. It's pretty cool. I don't have to burn through my candles every couple of weeks. I set the timer to spritz from 15 seconds to 10 minutes and - spitzzz! - I get a nice fresh shot of Vanilla Bean fragrance. It's really good if I don't forget not to stand right in front of the nozzle.

Anyway.

I climb into bed to relax a bit (notice I didn't mention sleep) and play around on the social networks, maybe listen to a little music - anything but sleep. Sleep is not something that happens much for me these days. Anyway, it's too damn hot to sleep. So... I'm lolling around, bed-dancing to random Shoutcast jazz, pretending I can sing and having a good old time. Then it happens. (Well, it happened a few minutes after I came across a picture of a snake.) I close my eyes, just to rest them for a moment. I can't get the image of that damn snake out of my mind. Pretty soon, I'm doing the little eww-shiver thing I do whenever I think of snakes. And

SPITZZZ!!!

Popping hell! I screamed and damn near fell backwards out of the bed. For a split second, I could've sworn something slithered across the foot of my bed.

My poor roommate is actually awake for a bit and up front, watching her TV shows. She came running, bless her heart. I couldn't even play this one off. I told her, then called my sister. When they stop laughing, I can inform them that they are both off my Christmas 2013 list.

If I had a case of insomnia before, I know have whatever the opposite of a coma is. I might not sleep for years.

NOTE: If I know you and find out you laughed at me about this, we're over.

Peace
--Free

Parents and Technology

I just saw something posted online poking fun at parents and the internet. Made me think of Mama. She passed away in 2001 when I was still rocking jackets that had been broken down by a phone like this:

except the battery in mine was the size of a Yugo

Mom was just plain fascinated with that phone. She was also a little pissy about it. She thought that the only person so important and needing to be reached at any given time should be addressed as "President" or "Your Highness." Matter of fact, she felt like even a queen needed peaceful bathroom breaks.

Cell phones were extravagant, in Mom's opinion. There was no real purpose for them other than to be showy. Computers, on the other hand, were wonderful. 

I remember when we got our kids their first computer - a Gateway desktop - and my mother would sit with them while they did homework. Homework was pretty much all they were allowed to do on the computer. Mama would watch while they pulled up articles on Encarta. The way she looked on in awe at the rotating maps and scrolling timelines damn near brought tears to my eyes. I had never seen my mother in such a state of wonder. (I got a little bit worried about her when she started checking out the back of the PC as if she thought there were little green men back there operating the machine.)

Well, if Mom was weird-ed out by the phones and computers back then, I'm pretty sure she'd be throwing holy water on the stuff we all have in our homes now. 

Understand that I come from parents who came straight out of the sticks of places like Big Spring, Texas and Hope, Arkansas. I have an aunt, now in her late seventies, who used to believe that if she turned off a radio mid-song, the same song would continue when she turned on the radio three hours later. (True story. I learned this when I stayed with her for a couple of weeks back when I was around thirteen.)

This is not just about my Mama. A lot of you are going to be laughing with me when I tell you that Mama worried that Gameboys might be the work of Satan. If she'd lived to see it, I guess she'd have keeled right over watching us Skype. I don't even want to think of how she'd have felt about people walking around Walmart, chatting to their unseen Bluetooth devices. We probably would have had to have her committed for treatment.

Not to sound like Grandma Kettle myself, but... The other week, I was marveling over the cool gifts my nephew got for his first birthday. The talking broom really cracked me up (D.J. has a thing for sweeping), but the vacuum cleaner his parents got for him was so cool, I wasn't sure it was really a toy.

It's a Dyson. Seriously.

While I was raving over the "realistic" features, I noticed that the damn thing actually works. It has suction and everything. Think I'm lying? Here's the Sam's Club page - though I think D.J.'s came from Costco. I would be mad, but D.J. actually understands how it works. Hey - anything teaching a male to do housework is cool with me.

I try not to, but can't help but be fascinated by some of the stuff I'm seeing when I go into Best Buy. It's getting embarrassing. The first time I played around with a touchscreen computer at Best Buy, I swear I heard a kid whisper, "Get over it, Grandma."

In the old days, I'd be allowed to smack him upside the head for being rude.

Peace
--Free

Good Days, Bad Days

I'm glad that today is turning out to be a good day for me because yesterday was just hellish. First off, I woke up more tired than when I went to sleep because the T. Rex that lives upstairs apparently thinks that pacing will relieve his insomnia. His lead-foot travelling and grunting all night is not really a problem. I sleep so rarely these days, my body has adjusted so that I can sort of function on a forty minute nod-off. The problem is, I was too tired and uninspired to use lights or a mirror to dress this morning. That wouldn't have been much of a problem if I hadn't had an appointment for an infusion.

Second, my appointment that started out fine, ended up on a sour note. As soon as I get to the doctors' office and the nurse gets me all set up, I crash into a dreamless coma. It probably doesn't help that they administer Benadryl prior to infusion. I don't even notice the first three vitals checks by the nurse (including the thermometer going into my mouth - and ain't it scary that I slept through that?), but near the end of the treatment, I started waking up.

Now, I rarely doze off in public. For one thing, I was traumatized earlier in life by watching my Mama nod off in church one time during a marathon sermon. (We were Pentecostal, so all the sermons were as long as "Driving Miss Daisy".) The nodding off was fine, but when she woke herself up snoring... Yeah. The other thing I hate about people seeing me sleep is that, while I want to believe I look like this -

I worry that I look like something like this -

I certainly didn't feel attractive after the treatment when I woke up, looked around and saw a gorgeous man standing not four feet away. Of course, I wear my lust meter on my sleeve, so I was crazily gaping at the poor guy. I probably looked a whole lot like a female version of the dude that stalks women leaving bars. You know the guy - he's dazed, confused, has two teeth and breath that killed the other 30, but he's sweet and wants you to know that, "You so purty. Really, really purty."

This man was just so gorgeous, really, really gorgeous.

Of course, I tried to rescue myself by feigning indifference. Kind of hard to do when my heartbeat's banging through my shirt like Pepe Le Pew's when he's in heat... I felt awful when I saw that Gorgeous Guy was with a woman who was wearing a wedding ring. I think they were visiting patients, but I didn't get a chance to ask the nurse. The nurse is a super sweet woman, but I was kind of annoyed that she snickered at my embarrassment!

Anyway. That's how yesterday started. It only got a little better when I swung by to see Baby D.J. The little brat is cutting teeth and didn't seem too thrilled to see me. Even worse, I won't see him for seven days because he and his parents left for their cruise last night. I went to sleep feeling sad and missing that little booger.

This is for my little loudmouthed D.J. It's one of his favorite songs for us to dance to. And I think he likes we do the whole

"IT STARTED WITH A WHIS-PER-RRR!!!!"

Peace
--Free

P.S.: Today is good. It's Day 19 without the cigarettes. The sun was shining most of the morning, and I'm destroying this bedroom and re-arranging everything.

I Have Trouble In Bed

(Not that kind of trouble, so nothing good to see here.)

I have sleep troubles. I am either exhausted and have to fight sleep if I want to have a life, or I can't sleep. When I started on Chantix, I had trouble staying awake. For the first few weeks I could nod off into a coma during a pap smear. And I dreamed a lot of dreams. Not the Disney-colored fun dreams, but those nightmares where I would experience at least one of my phobias in full CGI while paralyzed.

Fifteen days ago, I put cigarettes down for good. At that point, I was so traumatized by all the fresh air in my lungs, I can't remember now whether I slept or not. Now, though, I'm nicotine free.  (Yay me!) I'm also pretty much sleep free. No matter how tired I get, I sit up at night like a twitchy junkie waiting to rob my sleeping roommate  This would be the perfect time for me to foster a colicky two-year old (or teenager with midnight creeping tendencies).

Let me tell you, insomnia is not good for someone like me. I'm already moody, I am manic and highly impulsive, and I have access to the internet. I was just on G+ bitching about the evil nature of Pinterest. Now I'm blogging about this shit. Back in the day, I'd be reduced to counting sheep or re-arranging my closets. These days, there's probably an app for counting sheep and I can't do anything in my closet without pissing off the chick who lives right above me. (This apartment living is a bitch. Walls are so thin, if the neighbors have sex, I want a cigarette after.)

Yeah, I'm in a pissy mood tonight.

You know how when you are sick and can't sleep, you kind of want someone sitting up and checking on you every now and then? (Or is that just me?) Well, if I was sick and not just restless, I'd be dead waiting on my roommate to give a shit. She can sleep like it's an Olympic sport and she's got a title to defend. I've known her for over twenty years and never knew how hard she sleeps. If she's not driving, eating, talking or smoking - she's sleep. And I don't mean she just dozes off - unless "dozing off" means passing out like someone beat the hell out of you with a horse tranquilizer. I'm not sure if she even stays completely awake for sex. I'm going to have to ask her about that.

When I first came to bed tonight, I checked my watch. Just checked again and, after four years, only and hour has gone by.

If I manage to stay sane for another hour and a half, my niece will be getting up in North Carolina. I could call and talk with her for ten minutes before she has to start work.  She works from home and in her PJ's, so I might get another ten minutes of sympathy chat before she pretends her boss is on the work phone and she just has to hang up with me...

I suppose I could do some exercises, but I make noise when I exercise. My neighbors might think I'm having sex or something. Worse, since there are no cars in visitor parking, they'll think I'm having solo sex. Damn. Okay, so that rules out exercise.

The only thing left is finding something to watch on TV. Nothing funny though (I laugh like a guffawing goat when I am over-tired), and nothing that involves any kind of cruelty (or I'll be writing "rant" letters to a television network or something), and nothing with even a hint of male-female physical contact (the solo-sex thing again, because when I get tired...), and that leaves... what? "Caillou"?

What the hell. I'm going to go back over to G+ and read happy affirmations that just piss me off.

Peace
--Free

Someone posted this the other day. It seems fitting for this moment:

Waiting for the Smoke to Clear

It has been 12 days since my last cigarette. All this fresh air is about to kill me! (Just kidding.)

According to the Android app on my phone, my health is improving incrementally:

• Carbon monoxide level in my blood down by 100%
• Taste & smell improved by 100%
• 100 percent of nicotine gone from my body
• 86% of my nicotine dependence is gone
• My withdrawal symptoms are down by 43%
• My circulation has improved by 13%
• I'm down 3% on my risk of coronary heart disease, heart attack and stroke

I've still got a ways to go before I'm even half as healthy as I need to be, but I'm getting there. If a bus doesn't mow me down. If I don't slide my Sarc-clumsy ass on the ice and break my tailbone. If, if, if...

Slowly, surely, I creep through this  minefield of beating my addiction to nicotine. It has been good for my lungs and my prayer life.

The thing is, I want to encourage anyone else who is trying to kick a habit. If you smoke or drink or have way too much sex - you can at least attempt to stop. Find your personal motivation factors. I have Sarcoidosis, therefore, I should not smoke. I was married to a drunk and I will never be an alcoholic. I don't have to worry about excess sex; I create enough problems for myself just thinking too much about it.

Bottom line: if you want to quit something - you can do it. It's just a matter of when and how. I don't want my "when" to be too late or my "how" to be death.

Peace
--Free

Cessation Nation is the Android app I'm using. Go find one that works for you. Good luck.

Translate This

Boy, I needed a good laugh and I got one day before yesterday.

My girlfriend drove me over to the Walmart pharmacy. We saw a commotion and, of course, we rubbernecked like crazy. There were quite a few folks trying to see what was happening. There were a few  police cars blocking off half the parking lot, the store manangers blocked the entrance closest to the happenings... it was crazy. Mostly, I was annoyed as hell that we had to go all out of the way to do what we needed.

A couple of nice looking fellows were stuck same as my girlfriend and I, trying to get back out to the parking lot. One of them said something to my friend and she almost fainted because he had an accent. French, I think. He and his friend seemed nice, kind of shaking their heads and hoping that all was okay.

Now, I am wary of men with accents. I am not into looks or money so much. Intelligence, kindness, sweetness and maybe a little swagger... That rocks me. An non-American accent will just do me in. Accents are sexy. I watch out for that because I married a man once and I am pretty sure the accent did something to my hormones. If he'd been from Tuscon, I might have dated him without going into heat. My crazy girlfriend just loves an accent. She once dated a guy for six months that she didn't even like because he had some kind of islander accent. This was around the time of Stella getting her groove back. I'm not even sure if my friend liked this guy enough to give her groove away. They talked on the phone a lot. Whatever.

My friend tends to stereotype situations and has no qualms about using friends as bait. As her black friend, I'm her magnet for guys with a Euro accent. We have another friend who has a body that's a freaking siren call for guys with any kind of "Island" accent. (We are all still shameless flirts. You get better at it with age.) Lately though, I'm not feeling cute. I don't even feel sociable. This didn't stop my friend from flirting her ass off with the guys at the store. (I need to talk with her about our age and the need for some mature dignity.)

So, there I am, nauseous, sweating and just wanting to get back in the truck where there is air conditioning. My friend is batting her eyes and chatting away with her new buddies. (I also need to talk to her about how silly the whole eye-battng thing s for a woman anywhere past high school. And, for us, high school is a really dim memory.)

Anyway, I finally tear the BFF away by  threatening to either faint or throw up. As we are walking off, the two guys start speaking, yeah, French. My friend, who has no self-esteem issues, wanted to believe they were being complimentary. Maybe. I couldn't help pointing out to her that the problem with hitting on foreign men is that they could be saying anything.

"Girl, they are checking out my ass and you know this."

We get home and, because my friend is a great friend, she sticks around to watch TV, help me cut my hair (again), try to fix food I might want to eat, etc. It wasn't until a few hours later that my sister noticed something on the butt of my friend's shorts.

"B____, how the hell do you have a bicycle tire mark on your behind?"

I don't think I even want to guess at how it happened, but, sure enough, my friend had a perfect tire mark right across the back of her pink shorts.

How the hell, right?

Anyway, I had such fun freaking her out with what those French dudes might have been saying. At least they probably really were checking out her ass.

Seriously, how did she get a tire mark on her ass?

Peace
--Free

P.S.: Number One - Typing this on a tablet (cos I had another PC mishap) so I hope it is readable. Number Two - Had to change my cell number after YEARS because of the stalker who is my ex; if I haven't sent you the new number, hit me via email.

"I Do That Too" (dot com)

If you are the least little bit down or just want to waste a few minutes' time, go over to I DO THAT TOO. It seems to be mostly for and by the younger crowd, so I don't know how juvenile it makes me that I literally sat down and laughed til I almost cried at this one:




It should be called "I've DONE that."

Peace

--Free

For BFF "T"

I needed a smile right about now & this might have done it. I had almost forgotten about it, but remembered it while talking to two of the BFFs. Sent it to T via email and she said she snorted wine out her nose. (It's funny, but... really T? We might have to look into broadening your downtime activities, sis!)

Anyway, I saw it over at G+ and I'm pretty sure I kind of rolled my eyes or something, but it is pretty funny because of the caption:

"You're welcome."

Now, let's see a show of hands from all the guys that are rating this up there as #1

LOL. Whatever.


Peace
--Free

Oh, Whoa, Woe

My mother taught me many things and one of them was to never boast about what you won't do. I didn't quite get it back when she was teaching me this, but I do now.

I'm against the wall here. Looks like I have to make some super-tough financial decisions and one that is bugging the piss out of me is bankruptcy.

How the hell did I get myself to this place?

Right now, I am mentally kicking the shit out of my can't-be-ex-soon-enough. Not that this is all his fault, but... I should learn to listen more to my head than to my freaking heart.

All morning, this has been pattering on my mind like rain hitting a tin roof. I did laundry thinking about this, vacuumed, paced the porch, talked to two of the BFFs and Kita Kat - all with this hovering on the edge of every thought. I am pretty sure that this is how people go crazy a little tiny bit at a time.

What I hate most about the idea of bankruptcy is that, to me, it seems a whole lot like stealing. I mean, I did get goods or services for a price that I now cannot finish paying. Bankruptcy vs Stealing. Difference? Not much except intent.

 Dilemma, dilemma, dilemma. By not filing, I am only sinking deeper and deeper into a pit that, short of winning a lottery or a lost-lost rich relative finding and taking pity on me, is only getting an inch deeper every moment. The bad thing is, even my wealthy relatives are scrimping these days. (Is there humor in that?) By filing, I am signing off on a lot of self-esteem and throwing the towel right the hell in wherever thrown towels go.

I have a headache now. Think I am going to mull this some more - see if any bright ideas pop into my head. Meantime, I'm going to make some calls for advice and do some G+ therapy looking at shit like this:

Okay. That helped a little. Not much, but Number 7 gave me ideas...

Peace
--Free

Today's Attitude Is...

 This

And/Or...

THIS!

Because, if you mess with me today, I'm gonna have something for your ass

Hell yeah!

Um, Peace?

--Free

LOL!!! Somebody's with me on this. This wasn't up but about 3 seconds & I got a message to add the version with the lyrics! Daaaang.... This must be a wrong day for more than a few folks.... SMH 

My Personal Weirdities

My family tells me often that I am a unique kind of person. What they mean (and what my sister and one of the BFFs will come right out and say) is that I have a lot of strange traits or ways about me. What makes me laugh is that some people think I should be offended to be thought of that way. Uh, I'm not, thank you. I'm good with the fact that I am a little out of the normal mold.

I flaunt my uniqueness. I say that I "flaunt" it, but when the BFF dared me to post about it, I did cringe a little. But I have this awful habit. If someone dares me to do something.... (Other than anything involving my phobias!)

So here goes:

Food: I don't like to eat in public. I will though. Of course, I will. Now that I am on prednisone, I'll sit at Queen Elizabeth's table and take food off Philip's plate. Are you kidding me? That's now. I'm less shy now, but when I was a teenager, I'd starve before I'd let anyone out of my close circle see me chewing. (I don't know why, except I read once where a rich chick said, no one looks good chewing or - I don't know what else, maybe she said blinking or something? shrug.)

Relaxation: I will sometimes sleep "ready-roll." That means in my clothes, not in anticipation of fire. My mother hated this when I was younger. She'd sometimes come and wake me up at a crazy hour of the night just to make me put on pajamas. My father didn't think it was all that bad. He'd tell my mom that I was saving her time on laundry. (I have this habit because I always go to sleep either reading, writing or watching TV. Unless I get to have sex. Then the Vicky Secret stuff comes out and goes on full parade. Before I got this fat, I sometimes wore cute stuff to bed just to feel cute. But since I'm fat and separated, no sex. No sex, no reason not to read myself to sleep. It's all good.)

Style: I will cut or dye my hair on a whim. I have no problem doing something strange to my hair because it's the one thing that always came back or could be purchased. Once, I asked a stylist to cut my hair so drastically short that she spent a couple hours trying to talk me out of it. As she put the razor to my nape, she was saying, "Are you absolutely sure?" Then there was the time I dyed my hair with some kind of streaking kit. I was in Texas and it was full-on summer. Between the dye kit and that sun, I looked like that crazy-assed demon spawn that is Nicki Minaj. Don't know who this fool is?

this is a relatively "normal" look for Miss Crazy

Keep in mind that I'm a tad bit more, shall we say chocolate-toned than she is. I'm saner, but darker.

Yeah. So. Moving along...

Mood: It doesn't take much to make me laugh, cry or get really, really pissed off. At Mach 10. (I'd like to blame this on Sarc or meds or hormones, but...) I have what one of my brothers calls a "mercurial" personality. In other words, I can be kind of a sweetheart, a softy or a bitch - with a short time lapse rotation. Usually, you can take a couple of deep breathes in between my mood changes. ("Mercurial." Hmph.) I prefer to think that I am just kind of sensitive and misunderstood & I think that my medical condition does make things worse. However, when I say this to my sister or any of the BFFs, they just kind of go, "Uh... yeah. All right." (I'll get some phone calls the minute I publish this post, watch.)

People: I'm very quick to either like or dislike someone. I think I have good judgement about people. I always pick up on a "vibe" when I meet people. Usually, I am right, but I have, at times, been really, really  wrong. Not often. (I absolutely loathed a woman who is now one of the BFFs, and let's not forget that I married the Permian Basin Pycho.) And I'm the kind that I make the people I like a part of my life forever. Good people are not disposable.

Fantasy Life: (This one is really the most embarrassing.) I once wrote a liar-letter to Michael Jackson so that he'd want to meet me. I was about 13 or 14 and I wrote a fan letter lying about how I was really sick and all I'd ever wanted was to meet him. How freaking manipulative is that? And it's not even very creative, shame on me. (Good thing they didn't have Make A Wish back then or I'd've have done something really pathetic like shave my head and pretend to have leukemia or something.) By the way, I got busted. The letter came back as "Undeliverable" because of a bad address or something. My mother found out what I did. I got my ass whipped with a switch she made me pick from the front yard and I was grounded for a couple weeks. (I think she even outed me in church, but I can't remember for sure.)

Another weirdity involving Mr. Jackson: I told people who didn't know our family well that I was related to the Jackson Five. My mother's maiden name helped with that little lie. I got away with this for most of my Middle School years. I don't know why people didn't wonder why, if I had such famous relatives, we didn't exactly live the lifestyle.

(I'm thinking about all this now and wonder why I was such a little tale-teller when I was young? Damn. I was like a politician under oath!)

You know what? I don't even want to play this game anymore. This thinking about things I've done makes me pretty sure I need to go and pray. Right now.

Peace

--Free

British Humor & Mysteries

When I lived in England, I didn't appreciate the humor of British folk. I was too busy trying to figure out how come they couldn't cook worth a shit. Now I realize some of them can cook their asses off & it was just the family I married into who had bad kitchen skills. (Good thing about that is, David thought my tacos were a culinary masterpiece. Tacos were the only thing I knew how to fix. We ate a lot of tacos back then.)

 ~waving to Dave~ "Hey, boo!"

Anyway... there were some things I just did not get about that place and the people. One was the whole wrong side of the car & street crap. (Think I told you about an argument Dave & I had. Ended with me stomping off dramatically to the car & sitting my ass on the wrong side. David loved that so much, he called & told my parents about it.) I won't mention how many times I damn near got killed just crossing the streets. Another time, I got all huffy with a server about my toast being cold before Dave told me that's they way they serve it there. Cold toast & hot sodas. All right.

Still, I adored my in-laws & my temporary home (still adore my other "fam."). But I never got the humor. For some reason, David would be just falling out sick, laughing at stuff that didn't even begin to amuse me. Maybe I was just too young.

These days, I have nothing but love for so many British shows. Of course, I've always loved anything Agatha Christie (even though I had a teenage hate spurt when I found out the original British title of "Ten Little Indians"), especially Hercule Poirot - the books and the David Sachet television series. What is new to me - meaning in the last 8 or 9 years - are the silly shows like "Keeping Up Appearances," "Absolutely Fabulous" and "Mr. Bean."

In addition to the funny stuff, one of my all-time favorites is this brilliant series called "The Dark Beginnings of Sherlock Holmes":

Make sure you watch ALL of the videos

I suppose age and maturity opens us up to a lot of things: humor, kindness, tolerance... I'm glad about the humor thing. I need all the laughs I can get in this life of mine!

Make sure to check out some of these shows. Most of them are on either Hulu, Crackle or YouTube. If I am missing any I should check out, do let me know.

Peace
--Free

Laugh, Cry or Die

Told you how the BFF "B" had a good laugh at my expense yesterday. I'm pretty sure she read the  post (probably to make sure I put in the INXS song) because she called me back to see if I was okay. We ended up talking about some of the crazy crap we went through during all those years at the clearance hub.

B started at the hub when I was already about 4 years in. She was very smart and quick on her feet so, of course, she promoted up fast. By the time she and I were working together, things were so crazy there that stuff could change from one day to the next. B got nervous when Treasury made us ramp up and automate a bunch of tasks. We literally went from handwriting and having entries keyed in to getting them into the data system as soon as they came off the planes. This is just before we got to the point of pre-clearing all the Hong Kong freight and most of the Japan stuff. Pre-clearance required so much direct contact with Customs and was so nerve-wracking that our GM rotated people through the job. If you got the assignment, you were stuck for a two-week rotation. It was sort of okay if you got along with the guys in Customs, but if even one of them didn't like you, you'd be miserable. B got added to the group of us who did pre-clearance. That was because she didn't panic easy under pressure. Good, right? Yep, except for some unknown reason, one of the main Customs officials just hated her. He didn't like her from the minute he met her. Our GM noticed and offered B an easy out of the assignment, no penalty, but she wasn't backing down. Good for her. Of course, she was all sick to her stomach at the thought of screwing up any little tiny thing.

Another guy and I had done the rotations long enough that nothing really fazed us. Most of the Customs guys were cool with us, and the hard-ass that gave B a hard time was just mildly rude to us We - me and the other guy - decided to pep-talk B through her first rotation. We told her how to just keep a polite but blank face and how to imagine "Scary Guy" as a Barney Fife character just to keep herself steady. She survived. She made a few mistakes - one of them cost our brokerage a huge fine, but, hey, she never made that same mistake.

Later on, she told me and our other co-worker that she'd made it through every single challenge at the hub by using a sense of humor. We ended up being a little crew of pranksters. We pranked each other mostly, but if we really liked someone, we'd prank them. When we worked night shift in the winters, we would steal someone's keys and go move their car. When they got ready to leave work, they'd think they had missed a snow-removal notice from Maintenance and had their car towed. Once we went so far as to dismantle someone's desk so that it just collapsed when they sat down and went to pull their chair in close. My favorite prank was when we had this one co-worker who always came back late from lunches. We worked nights and there were only about 20 of us present on the Broker side. We really depended on each other to be on time. To teach this person a lesson, we just weren't there when they got back from lunch one night. Security was in on it with us. When the person went all over the building looking for us, Security told them that there had been an evacuation and employees had been sent home at end of the last lunch break. Actually, we were all just hiding out in one of the Freight side offices for a few minutes.

B said that she probably would not have lasted so long at the hub if it hadn't been for the fun we managed to have. I don't think I would have lasted either. It was too stressful otherwise.

Last night, she and were walking that little path of our memories. B remembers almost everything except the name of that Customs guy who gave her such a hard time. I think his name was Stan, but I'm not sure. Anyway, just talking about some of those days made us remember a lot of the funny stuff that happened.

One time, one of our friends damn near slid down half the stairs that ran along one of the ramps. One minute she was standing there, watching one of the planes being loaded, the next, she slipped and was literally just sliding down those metal steps. It was like something out of Merrie Melodies. That was so damn hilarious that just thinking of it makes me and B crack up right now. Not that we are cruel or anything. The chick turned out to be okay, but they damn near had to shut down the hub because of the whole thing. Another time, I got busted by security cameras putting on pantyhose in my car. Had ripped my hose on the way to work with no time to change. Grabbed an extra pair and when I got to work, I just did the whole shimmy-shimmy change-over in the car. Got inside and had a bunch of smart-ass guards applauding my antics. That was so embarrassing.

Another time, when I became a Trainer, I was sick with a virus or something that we called the "Creeping Crud" at the same time that I had a huge class session going. The class was for managers and supervisors from both freight and broker sides so re-scheduling would have been a nightmare. I also had reps from FDA and Fish and Wildlife sitting in. The whole thing was 10 or 12 days or something and just so tightly scheduled that there was no way out. The other trainer was in Newark doing training. Okay. I go ahead with the class and made it almost all the way through without dying. I'd get up around 5am, go in and set up PCs and materials and be ready for those guys at 7. Lunch at around noon, I'd go in the office and lay on the floor and just want to die in peace. By the time three o'clock came, I'd revive long enough to drive home and just go to bed, watch TV and pass out to sleep between coughing fits. It all worked out until the last three or four days. I just didn't think I was going to make it. I didn't have a regular doctor then, but our training office was in Spenard and just around the corner there was a clinic. I had gone there a couple of times for minor stuff, so I went over to see what they could do for my misery. I can't remember exactly what kind of bug I had, but the doctor gave me antibiotics and some cough syrup with codeine in it. Great. The cough syrup let me get a good night sleep and I thought I'd be better at work. Let me tell you something about me and narcotics. Apparently, as with liquor, I'm a lightweight. The cough syrup that I took at around 6 or 7 at night was still in my system all the next day. I barely managed to stay awake through class. Then, to top it all off, I started getting nauseous. I'd do 10 or 15 minutes of class and go to the bathroom to throw up. Still not as bad as it got. As bad as it got is when I just vomited all over the floor in the middle of the class. I don't know where it came from. There was no warning heave or anything. It was a mess. We all took a break while Janitorial came in and cleaned things up. I am to this very day SO proud of myself. I bulldozed my way through to the end of that class. I think it was a month later that I had my one and only bout with pneumonia. About a month after that,  fractured a rib sneezing... Crazy. One lady from Customs that I kept in touch with for years after would mention that class every time we ran into each other.

On a lighter side, B remembered the time that she spent half a shift at work with a big old blue or pink Conair hot curler in the back of her head. This is a woman who was always turned out so nice for work. She said that she kept feeling weight against her back... The really messed up thing - and this tells you something about what bitches we women can be - is that it was a guy who told her when he spotted the curler. Now, you know that women check each other out head to freaking toe. You know that a woman saw that curler and just thought, "Heh heh."

One time when I just knew I was cute to death,  I had to go up where the pilots's lounge was. That hardly ever happened and I can't remember if I had a legitimate reason to go there or what. At any rate, of course, we all loved those guys in their sexy uniforms. Face it, a guy can look like Flavor Flav, but stick him in an outfit with epaulets and a hat... Boom! Sex-ay, right? Anyway, I get myself to the area and I guess, did what I was there to do. I end up passing the lounge just right before I hear some of the pilots coming out and down the hall behind me. Let me tell you something, I had on this cute outfit that I wore so much that it was dang near my signature. It was a cropped duster jacket/short skirt suit that at least covered my butt. Mostly. (The company eventually banned the style saying we needed to look like professionals and not the cast of "Knots Landing." Damn, I'm old!) I know I had on stilt-heels because that's all I ever wore then. And I am working that walk. When you are young, thin and cute, you walk like you own the idea of "hot." Yeah, well, I did my thing and did it well until I got to the elevators and the pilots had gone on their way. When I get back to the Broker floor, I stop in the ladies room. I damn near wanted to die when I see in the mirror that I've been tramping around with my hem tucked under my waistband, leaving my behind just hanging all out. Oh. My. Damn. Really? If I hadn't been so busy being "hot," I might have felt a breeze or something.

Yeah. That is one of B's favorite stories. The other one has to do with the time I drug half a roll of toilet tissue from the bathroom, down the hall and into the Admin office...

I'm not the only one who did stupid and embarrassing stuff. One time this really sweet guy named Evander had a super-cringe moment. He was one of the nicest guys I'd ever met (B remembers because she told me last night that she had a mild crush on him) and he was really shy. He worked in our Tech department doing whatever Tech guys do. ~shrug~ Evander had a crush on our GM's executive assistant. I can't think of her name now, but I know she was really nice. Smart. She was going to be leaving for college to study something amazing like molecular physics or something I can barely spell. Anyway, Evander had crushed on her for forever, and we all could tell she kind of crushed back. But you can't hem and haw and make goo-goo eyes forever when one of you is planning to go away. Finally, I guess Evander got the nerve to say something to this girl when a bunch of us were in the GM's office officially for a meeting/unofficially killing time at the end of a really long day. The GM always kept a really nice coffee and dessert table ready. At some point Evander and this girl were standing there together and you could just see he was going to go for it and say something. The only problem is, poor Evander had a booger about to fall out of his nose. Oh,  damn, right? I think it was my friend V who noticed and started trying to throw hand signals or gang signs or something to warn Evander. Long story probably not short enough: The booger didn't fall, but I guess it was a turn off. Those two coulda-beens never happened. The girl went away without hooking up with Evander.  If that was because of the booger, well, too bad for her. She and Evander could have ended up having a funny story to tell their kids. Well, maybe they could have changed the part about the booger to something else. (I wonder what the heck ever happened to Evander?)

And if you think having a booger on your face is embarrassing, I once farted in a meeting. Totally wanted to breathe my last and just go on to Heaven from that very spot. It wasn't a stinky fart or anything, but - oh, horror, horror, nightmare was it kind of loud. B was in that meeting. At the time, she reassured me that it wasn't that loud and that probably no one noticed. Last night, that lying shit told me that it had sounded like a car backfiring. (Notice how convenient her memory is... ) It's not like I was raised with no home-training; it's that I had been a little sick that week. I had been burping and passing gas for a couple of days. Let me tell you something about myself. I embarrass easily. I was taught that it is just not ladylike to do certain things outside the bathroom - such blow your nose, "poot" (as we called farting) or belch really loud. When we were kids, if me or my sister or brothers did any of this in public, our parents would look at us as if we'd signed a pact with Satan and say, "Have you gone and lost your manners?" ("Losing your manners" is also another way to say "farted.") Can you imagine how hard it was for me not to run out of that meeting, jump in my car and just drive off to somewhere like, say, Mars? Thank goodness for the politeness of other people. I got a look or two, but no one broke out laughing. Everyone mostly pretended like nothing happened. Oh, the shame! LOL (I almost didn't even put that story in here, except for my thing about being so open in this blog.)

B did tell me that she recently broke wind in public. She said she was at the store and thought she was alone on an aisle. Said her tummy had been bothering her so she just cut loose to get some relief. Of course, as soon as she did, here come a couple of people. She said they walked right into that cloud of funk. I asked how she handled it and she said she looked right at one of the people and made a can-you-believe-someone-did-that? face. That's my friend, B!

Wow. I still cannot believe I put some of this stuff in here. B and I had such a good time laughing about all of this though. Sometimes it's just good not to take yourself so seriously, I guess.

I think it was an auntie of mine who once told me about life's little embarrassments. "You laugh, cry or die." I guess we should just learn to laugh at it all.

Peace
--Free

Recycled Post #2

Not the whole of the original post, but the best part.

Sometimes...

when you cry...

NO ONE sees your tears.

Sometimes...

when you are in pain...

NO ONE sees your hurt.

Sometimes...

when you are worried...

NO ONE sees your stress.

Sometimes...

when you are happy...

NO ONE sees your smile.

*

*

*

*

*

*

BUT...

*

*

*

*

*

*

fart just ONE time...

 A bit crude, but I still fell out laughing. (Sometimes, I need to be more of a lady!) 

Genevieve (she's a dog, people!) & Gizmo (he a dog, too)

My niece has had her shitzhu, Gizmo, for a few years. He's a character, truly. He is the only dog I know that 1) "talks" back (he does this little bark/yowl thing when you are fussing at him) and, 2) can sit straight up on his butt for the longest time (this is usually when he is trying to beg you out of something). He's a little piece of my heart.
 
Gizmo has been an only pet for all this time, so when Gabby - my niece - got another shitzhu, Gizmo was wary - but he's trying to be nice:

Giz is the bigger, lighter-colored pup. Genna is the little brat acting like she doesn't want Giz sharing HIS bed with HER...

Genevieve (Genna, for shorts) is also a character. For one thing, she looks really sweet and timid - but she's NOT. The first time Gabby brought her over, she looked so lost and helpless (you know, getting used to the big fam and the other dogs and a cat) that you just thought, "Awwwww..." Yeah. Until one of the dogs tried to take away her treat.

You do not want to tick off this little doggie. But she is a cutie:

 

  

  

See what I mean? "Awwwwww..."

Anyway, Gabs has been going through all the minor adjustments of having a second dog in her home. Genna and Giz have their jealousy issues, they compete for Gab's attention and the toys, etc. Genna is pretty opinionated & if you think a dog can't be opinionated, you will understand when you see this pic Gab sent me the other day. She had just bathed Genna and the subject of the email the pic came with said it all: "She's pissed":

I love it.

Poor Gabby.

Lotta Laughs

I am just such a glutton for punishment. I had an old defunct blog (actually, I never posted anything on it!) and I deleted it today. Could I leave well enough alone? Nooooo, not your girl. So, I replaced it with a new one. This makes, what? My second new blog in a week?? Yeah.

Anyway, the new blog is Lotta Laughs. Because I always find something hilarious when I am darting all over the web. Lord knows, in these rough times, we can all use more laughter. So. Skip over and check out the new spot. I found a new fave blog to visit: Cake Wrecks (you'll love these guys) and I put in a nod or two at a couple of blogs that poke fun at celebs.

Please enjoy. Oh, and check out a site called Feedjit. I love that they feature blogs regionally. I found some gems over there today.

Funny, Funny

Okay. So many of us have been having a crappy, depressing week that I thought it was time for a giggle or two or...Well, just to have a laugh. I found some funnies to share.

One-liners:

• Someday, we'll look back on this nervously and change the subject... (courtesy of Hilarious Quotes- as is the next line...)
  
• I don't know what your problem is, but I'll bet it's hard to pronounce.
• On the keyboard of life always keep one finger on the Escape key (link here)

Bumper Stickers:

• Never give yourself a haircut after 3 margaritas
• Who lit the fuse on your tampon? (Bit o' fun)
• If you're going to ride my ass, at least pull my hair & make me scream
• If you're not a hemorrhoid, get off my ass
• Eat Right, Exercise, Die anyway
• Damned if I do, Damned if I don't...so, damnit, I will!
• Horn broken - watch for finger

If you hate your job sometimes:

• I used up all my sick days, so I'm calling in dead
• Difference between the Pope & your boss: The Pope only expects you to kiss his ring
• Work: it isn't just for sleeping anymore
• The light at the end of the tunnel has been turned off due to budget cuts
• If at first you don't succeed, try management

Just cute & funny:

• Take my advice, I don't use it anyway
• Even crime wouldn't pay if the government ran it
• It's not how you pick your nose, but where you put the booger

Confucious Say: (Thanks again to Bit Of Fun!)

• Crowded elevator smells different to midget
• Virginity like bubble - one prick, all gone!
• Man who scratches ass should not bite fingernails
• Man who drive like hell bound to get there
• Panties not best thing on earth, but next to it

Why...? (Bit Of Fun)

• ...Is lemon juice made with artificial flavor, and dishwashing liquid with real lemons?
• ...Don't psychics ever win the lottery?
• ...Do we drive on "parkways" and park on "driveways?"
• ...Do we choose 2 people to run for President & 50 for Miss America?
• ...If "love is blind," why is lingerie so popular?
• ...Do you press harder on the remote control when you know the battery is dead?

And, even though I know it's wrong...
Yo Mama Jokes:

Your mama is so ugly...

• ...When she joined an ugly contest, they told her "Sorry, no professionals."
• ...When she tried to take a bath, the water jumped out 

 Your mama is so old...

• ...Her social security number is "1"
• ...When she was in school, there was no History class
• ...Her birth certificate is expired
• ...She knew Burger King when he was a Prince

And, okay! That's enough of a giggle for the day. I feel a little bit better - how about you?

Peace
--Free