When did theme trees become so darn “in”. I remember when I was very young, my family’s “theme” was whatever we could make with crayons, paper, and homemade paste (water and flour). We were poor. I’m talking embarrassingly poor. We were the kids that you prayed didn’t get your name when the class drew names for Christmas gifts (something that is not done any longer).  It never occurred to my Mom that anything such thing as a “theme tree” even existed.

I suppose we did have a theme tree of sorts….homemade ornaments and holly berry clippings. We made rows and rows of construction paper rings like those in the pic above. Our tree would be sooo full of them that we got scared everytime my Dad or Mom got too close to them with a ciggie. We were afraid that they’d actually hit one with a lighted cig and are tree would burn to the ground. We made so many of those construction paper linked ropes that we’d decorate the door frames, the windows, and anywhere else that my Mom would allow.

 And, I still don’t know how she managed it, but my Mom had managed to come up with a few strands of bubble lights. How I loved those I bubble lights!!!! I actually have severl strings of them now. Plus, two bubble nite lights. They are so relaxing to watch.I bubble lights!!!!

After I ascended to white trash with money throne (from WT without money), I had the resources to do any theme tree that I wanted to do. And, I made up for lost time with store-bought ornaments and all the other holiday decorations!

While TPSkipper and TPMidge were still little, I did the “balls and tinsel” theme. Plus, their homemade ornaments were always displayed right at the front of the tree.

After Skipper and Midge got older, I dared venture into the world of theme trees.

One year, I did my crystal tree. All ornaments were clear crystal. White lights lit up the crystal pieces. It could have almost rivaled several hoity-toity Buckingham Palace trees, or maybe,even the White Houe. I must say that it was gorgeous.  but a little too uppity for my white trash taste.

A couple of years ago, I did my maroon tree. Maroon balls, maroon ribbons, and white lights. Pretty…but it didn’t really do anything for me.

This year is the BEST THEME ever!  Ya see…..I got down all of my boxes of decorations. I love tree decorations and have been buying ornaments every year for around 28 years. I took them each out of their little boxes and looked at them. That’s when I knew that I had to put them on my tree this year.  ALL OF THEM! Who was gonna complain? The big-ass turkeys? The wandering goats? TPKen?  TPKen wouldn’t care if I hung buck racks or possum guts and proclaimed them to be “A Hunter’s Theme” deco. Seriously, I could hang big-ass bloomers or garage rags and he wouldn’t even notice.

In the first box were my beloved character ornaments. Lucy, Ethel, Mr. Potato Head, Elvis, and  so many more.

In the next box, were my  frosted white blown glass ornaments. They are so classy and delicate.

The next box held snowflakes of different sizes and colors. Love those, too.

Time to decide which to use this year. Then, I decided WTH…..I’ll put them all on the tree. And, I did.

Now, I will unveil to you (all seven regular readers) before letting anyone else see this masterpiece.

Presenting pictures of my Classy, Sassy, and a Little White Trashy Tree…..

Elvis standing hanging next to a European hand-blown crystal ornament bigger than he is. And, Elvis actually sings when you push his button! Notice Lucy trying to blend into the background. She’s afraid that Big E might hit on her….or ask her for some pharmaceuticals.

Santa Duck seems perplexed by the rather large handblown glass globe! And, I do believe that he crapped a large snowflake.

I’ll bet Lucy and Ethel are surprised to find themselves out of the candy factory and floating among expensive glass orbs!

I think Mr. Tator Head has been blinded by all the white lights around him!

No! Mr. Handyman….don’t use your chainsaw on that expensive glob o’ glass!

Slow down, Charlie Brown! That’s not that Dollar Store ornament that you were beside of last year!

 Who’s knocking on the door of the great WOZ? Maybe, they are  just trying to escape the big-ass berries!

Oh nooooo! Watch out, Mr. Sock Monkey and Mr. Orange Gumdrop. Little Miss Fancy Pants European artisan ornament is about to do a Tiger Woods on you! 

Last but, certainly, not least…..what self-respecting White Trash tree would be complete with The Christmas Leg?  But, it looks like Miss Fancy Department 57 Christmas Fairy would rather not be seen with Lamp Leg and has turned her back on it.

 So, this year’s theme tree ended up being “Sassy, Classy, and A Little White Trashy” AND, I LOVE IT!!!!

BTW…a big thanks to TPMidge for the title of the post and the tree. It came about when she did a quiz about me and described me as sassy, classy, and a little white trashy. XOXOXOXOXO to TPM! What would I do without her? And, this is why a saved a special spot for my TPMidge at 3 months old ornament……

This is from someecards. Great site with really funny cards on today’s topics.

First, let me apologize again to those who voted in my informal poll….what to write about next. I haven’t forgotten. But, I have found over the years, that my bipolar brain tends to latch on to and wrap itself around a (or several) random thought.  It then hooks up with the OCD part of my brain. This result of that is like being poked in the hiney with a cattle prod welded by a famous person = the thoughts are not always fun or pleasant but you have this insane urge to tell everyone.

So, strap yourself in and hang on for the ride. Hopefully, I’ll be able to wander too far off the subject. No promises, though.

For some crazy reason, around this time of year (for several years), I have decided that I can cut my hair better than my hairdresser. I think to myself….it couldn’t be that hard to trim my own hair . Think of the money and time that I can save!  This idea ranks right up there with the famous redneck last words…”Hey watch this!”

  My reasonable self says, “No! Don’tdoitdon’tdoitdon’tdoitdon’tdoit!” But, around the holidays, I never listen to my reasonable self which could explain the boxes that TPKen just got out of the attic. They were labeled “Christmas decorations”, but were, in fact, filled with clearance Christmas crap that even Goodwill would not accept. Broken ornaments that I just knew I could fix with a little Super Glue ( I do love my SG). Hallmark ornaments dated  2008 for First Born, Our New Home, #1 Teacher, etc. Now if I could just find someone who had a baby in 2007-2008 who wants a cradle with a rocker broken off ornament or prehaps, a kid who forgot to give their teacher a gift last year or the year before that or a couple who just never got around to purchasing an ornament after they closed their house loan last year…..

I digress, as usual. Back to my Chrismullet. I’m very good at cutting my own hair….on the top and sides. Then, I look in a double mirror at the back and realize that I have a haircut that could pass for a Joe Dirt extra. So, I try to fix it. And, I look in the mirror and think…”Hmm, it’s not that bad, except for the uneven layers. No problem! This will be a piece of cake”.

clip, clip, clip…there. That should do it. Except, I can see in the mirror that one side in the back is about 1/2 to 1 inch (depending on which layer) longer/shorter than the other side. So, thus begins my traditional “fixing of the hair”.  The traditional hair fixing is always accompanied by my very own original  holiday carol (which even I am too ashamed to post due to the the fact that the entire song is nothing more than a series of cuss words sung to the tune of Jingle Bells).

Over the next 8-10 days, I spend a few hours (broken up in to 10-15 minute increments) in the bathroom cutting “stray hairs.”

At this time, a reasonable woman would throw up her hands and go get it cut professionally. Notice, I said “a reasonable woman”.

I don’t give up that easily.

By day 11 or 12, I realized that I am seriously in need of a real hairdressers help….or a hat. I, of course, go for the hats. Hats are easier than having to explain to a hairdresser why my hair looks like it was caught in a wood chipper. Especially, since my personal hairdresser has had to fix my haircuts on several occasions before this one.

By this time, I am sporting my own creation…..the Chrismullet.

I shouldn’t be allowed to own scissors.  Not even those kid’s safety scissors.

Hmmm….”wondering if I can start a Chrismullet holiday style”.

In the meantime, I’ll just bookmark these sites…..Surviving A Bad Haircut and Accessorize It! and wear a fun hat…..

editing to add a Christmas treat for my blogging friends and readers. ENJOY! And, laugh….this has to put you in a good mood!

I have not forgotten about your votes. And, I have notes on all of them and many more.

I have been  busy making more notes. I’ve had a flow of creative juices (aka Red Bull and the manic stage of BP).

And, I am so mad at my myself.

Ya see…1  1/2 year ago, I began sponsoring two little kids in Malawi. One girl who is 8 and 1 little boy who is 3 1/2. I felt so good when I signed up and new that I was doing a good thing.

Went out and bought postcards of all the seasons where I live. Wrote them letters. Put some stickers and kid tattoos in them. Also, some pics of my family.

I couldn’t wait to hear from my little kids.

So, I waited one month. Then, I waited 2 months, 3 months!

Four months went by with narry a word of correspondence. I was not expecting a lot of letters but I wasn’t expected something….how ’bout a mud painting…not even a real one. They could go out in the bush and get big-ass leaf or something.

But, nothing. And, I hate to admit this but I was becoming very upset. Not only was I not getting correspondence from my kids, I was being flooded with pleas from the organization at least 4 times weekly. Help Lonjo’s family. They are starving. Help this poor widow. She as nothing. And, it’s not that I didn’t believe it, it was getting pretty tired of opening envelopes and having pictures of kids with flies around them, old grannies who needed a new thatch floor, etc. These pictures would make me sad. I would feel like a big-ass Scrooge not answering the outpouring of “gimmees”.And, what proof did I have that the kids even really existed? NONE

SO,yesterday I fired off a letter to Vorld Wison (don’t wanna get sued) and demanded that they remove me from their list. I told them that I gave money to my 2 kids there but I , also, give to people in my own area. I told them if they would quit hounding the donors that they have, people might stayed singed up

THey wrote me back and after a long, heart-wrenching explanation of why I get so much request for money, they promised to remove me.

Frankly, I thought I would be allowed to be more interactive with my 2 kids when I signed up. I had, already, seen them in  my head dressed up in new Ralph Loren shorts and T’s. And, maybe some Limited Too. But, that wasn’t allowed.

So, yesterday, I receive a letter from my little boy. It is the second pic that I have ever received of him. In the first pic, he is sorta skinny and doesn’t look happen.  In this pic, he has little round belly and is smiling .His letter informed me:

A few facts for you aboutAlfred(that is his name)

fav subject….chichewa…if anyone reading speaks the language of Malawi, please translate for me

fav food….nsima $ eggs

my health status….fine, because of the deworming that you paid for

your money has brought my family…mosquito net, maize flour, and goat

during free time, i like…..running

I feel so guilty. Will he get worms back if I don’t send money? Will he lose his goat?

Sheesh….the thought of Alfred getting worms back and shaking his fist to the sky and cursing that American woman is just too much to take.

So, I’m a sucker….I’m trying to get him back!

There are days when I cannot think of a single thing to write. It’s not that my life has become stagnent or boring. Never! But, my brain will not release the thoughts and holds out on the signal to make my fingers work the keyboard.

Yesterday was not one of those days, however. Thoughts were rapid firing like redneck hunters during deer season (which starts next week for guns…”note to self”…do not wear anything that has even the minute resemblence to antlers). It’s customary here for Black Friday to lower the checkered flag for Christmas shopping for the ladies and deer hunting* (see footnote at bottom) for the high testosteronedsex. Which, by the way, does not mean just the guys. No sirree…no bias ’round here. Y’all will see about as many femullets as mullets in the woods.

So, I’ve decided to let you, dear reader, choose my topic. Here is my plain, unedited list of weird, bizzarre, and maybe, downright disturbing topics. These are on a white, lined notebook right here beside my computer. Eventually, I’ll write about them all. But, you decide for me this time.

I just realized that my dentist’ name rhymes with Dr. Fucky.

Sweet Child Of Mine video that I am perfecting (starring me dressed as Axl Rose) for TPSkipper and TPMidge for Christmas. I started on it yesterday and got the giggles so bad that I just couldn’t finish it.

Bullet earrings and L L Bean

My friend gained 100 pounds in order to qualify for gastric bypass surgery.

New words that I have learned.

“Hey, looky here. I got me a squirrel right thru the eyeball!”

“Feels like the first day of squirrel season”

nasty dreams about Jon Bonjiovi

So…what will it be? And, if you lazy-ass biotches and baiostards don’t help me out, maybe, I’ll just write a post about….

PEOPLE WHO READ BUT NEVER COMMENT…..i’m just sayin’

*hunting season….a whole week away with the guys/girls. 3 hours of sitting in tree stands in subzero weather.  165 hours of sitting around with the guys/gals….spitting, farting, telling lies, and drinking suds.

i before e except after c

weird?

This is not a book review. It is a question.

Anybody out there reading Stephen King’s new book, Under The Dome?

This is a big-ass book…..1074 pages.

I am on page 181.

It feels like deja’ vu. Hmmmm…..where have I seen or read about a town that got covered by a dome?

AHA! The Simpson’s Movie. Springfield.

My question is…..if anybody out there has read past page 181, when (or does) it stop bearing a remarkable resemblance to the Simpson’s Movie? I love Stephen King and have read all of his books with the exception of the Towers or whatever the name of the series.

I don’t want to keep reading this book and be disappointed by it being like the Simpson’s Movie all the way thru it. And, if a ceiling walking pig shows up, that’s it. No more S. King for me.

So, any readers? Help a fellow King fan out here, would ya?!

If you’re like me, you’ve just got too many darn people on your Christmas list. With the economy in the toilet, who can afford those fancy department store presents?

So, once again, I have toiled til the wee hours in front of my computer to help you to be able to make wonderfully delightful Christmas gifts for all on your list. I’ve strived my hardest to cover everyone from Grandma to the postman. Here goes….2009 White Trash/Homemade/Cheap Christmas Gifts Part One….

There is always at least one female with  FPF ( floppy poontang flaps) for which to buy a gift on my list (or yours). Maybe, it’s Vera whose name you drew at the office. Or, maybe, LuElla, your best friend since first grade. And, if like me, you have checked the price of vaginal re-molding and tucking, you know that it’s simply too expensive to give. I did my research, though, so you don’t have to spend countless hours trying to find a Mexican clinic with a guy who claims to be Doctor Juan A. Titerjajay. Instead, I present to you….. 

Femtone vaginal weights  tone pelvic floor muscles to protect against incontinence, and can increase the strength of your orgasms! These vaginal “barbells” are the perfect product for kegel exercises. Get this hard-to-find kegal exerciser at ShopInPrivate.com.

But, hold the phone, Nelly…it gets better…..

No need to shell out $124.99!  No! No! No! You can make your own for less than a fraction of that cost! I made my own and YOU can, too. Simply, go to a Tru-Valu Hardware store and you will find a gazillion hardware items in varying weights to substitute for the store-bought 5 cones. Just to give you an idea, here are the items that I purchased.

gravel stones….these come in varying shapes and sizes

windchimes….so many assorted to pick from! (optional)

bolts….every size, shape, and weight that you can think of are available

cheesecloth (you can use velvet for that special feel but you will have to go somewhere other than the hardware store)

blank video /dvd/cd

Start with some small gravel. You might want to use a kitchen scale to weigh these. Or, take them to your local post office where they will weigh anything. This could be a slight bit tricky unless you are very, very, very good friends with the recipient of the gift since you will have to use your own judgement as to weight and size of the gravel “needed” to be effective.

Cut a piece of cheesecloth (or velvet). Then, wrap the chosen gravel in the material and tie with a Ziplock Sandwich tie. Be thoughtful and cut off the excess tie. Those things could cause some poonana scratches and we don’t want that. Lawsuits are rampant in these hard times. Who wants to lose the farm because of  “an internal scratch”?

Next, choose some bolts that are heavy but small enough to wrap in cheesecloth (or velvet!). Use the above instructions about cheesecloth/velvet/Ziplock ties.

 Once again, I must remind you that this is a very personalized gift and it is your duty to know approximately the size of bolts or gravel that your gift recipient will require.

 Optional windchimes……I found these to make a delightful and soothing sound. Pick a windchime and simply cut off  however many you choose. These should be wrapped up with the bolts. Your floppy flapped friend/relative/neighbor/co-worker will remember your thoughtfullness everytime that she uses these!

Last step….insert blank dvd/cd/video into camera or camcorder. Insert homemade vaginal weights into your own “friend”. Turn on recorder. WARNING: It is important that you use the zoom lens. Otherwise, your face/boobs/butt/etc. will be eternally recorded on your dvd/cd/video and may become as well-known as Carrie Prejean’s. Now….kegel to you just can’t kegel no more.

 WARNING: THIS IS NOT RECOMMENDED FOR ANYONE WHO SUFFERS FROM INCONTINENCE. KEEP ALL ELECTRICAL APPLIANCES AWAY FROM WET SURFACES. NOT FOR CHILDREN. NOT FOR RESALE. NOT ADVISED FOR ANYONE SUFFERING FROM MULTIPLE PERSONALITY DISORDER, BIPOLAR DISORDER, MAJOR DEPRESSION DISORDER, SEASONAL AFFECTIVE DISORDER, DEPERSONALIZATION DISORDER, OR THE VERY OBESE.

Small print stuff….TPB does not assume any responsiblity for injury to body or reputation while using this product.

My daughters have gone exercise crazy. Seriously. From the standard YMCA fitness machines to the latest craze, Zumba, they have embraced it all with more zealous than Sean Penn has for Hugo Chavez.

And, of course, they want to drag me along. So far, I have managed to resist (mostly by hiding in the closet or not answering my telephone when they call). It’s not that I don’t want to be fit. I do! I really do! And, when they find me a class that offers HD TV and Ding Dong breaks, I’m totally in and ready to squat/jump/shake my booty/etc. Until then, my plan is to stick with the Sit and Be Fit Class on PBS. SABF is the only enjoyable exercise routine that I have found so far. It takes only a few minutes and I can participate while sitting on my butt on my overstuffed couch with my Diet Coke, cigs, and Kroger’s Red Velvet cake on a nearby table.

It’s not that I have never joined a group of  obese overly enthusiastic  people women with good intentions of dropping that last ten pounds of baby weight (OK….what if my youngest child is of voting and drinking age?) and fit into a pair of sleek, tight Baby Phat (haha..I made a pun) jeans. I have done my share of jumping jacks, rolling on off around on an exercise ball, and yoga stretches. I use to be one hellova hot and fit mama. These days, though, I’m fairly satisfied to be a luke-warm earth mother. And, who wants an earth mother whose ribs stab ya when you lay your head on their bosom for comfort? I mean…COME ON!…it’s my turn to be the fat-but-jolly friend/sister/mother/neighbor/etc. I’ve served my time in front of  86 lb instructors with long blonde hair held in place by a fashionable sweatband and names like Rain or JuJu.

TrailerParkSkipper has joined a kick-boxing class and keeps urging me to join her. Hmmm….NO!

I’ve actually taken kickboxing classes. Brutal. Inhumane. And, stinky. Never in my entire life have I experienced so  many gassy women. Yes, you read that right. Gassy as in farting. There has to be something about hitting a bag with all your might and then instantaneously turning 180 degrees to kick the same bag that releases foul hiney odor. Whatever the cause, it manifested itself while doing the kick-boxing stretch warm-ups and cool-downs, too.

I remember, vividly, my first class. I went with TrailerParkMidge who was just starting junior high. We took our places on the floor. I looked to the left of me and saw a woman who looked very much like Paris Hilton. I turned to the right and lo and behold, there was a Kate Moss look-a-like. I wondered how long they had been in the class and how much time it would take me to resemble them. Actually,to be real about it, I wondered how many kick s and punches it would take me to look like a much larger version of them.

Those bitches! Skinny and lithe! With their sleek black leotards, pink sweat shorts, and oh-so-carefully- applied hint of pink lip gloss.  I hated them. I loathed them….until they started FARTING! 

“poooooot” “pfsssst” “fffffftttttt”

OMG….Kate and Paris were regular pootie-tooties!

At that minute, I felt happier than I had in a long time. With every turn-and-kick, “Paris” made pootie sounds. And, “Kate” was emitting the kind of sounds that 10 year old boys make blowing on their arms during detention to amuse their fellow detainees. Week after week, the Farting Duet made kickboxing bearable for me. They both smelled like rotten poultry and I may have been sweating like a ho’ in church but at least, I was not gassing everyone around me. I think it was their diet of bean sprouts and carrot juice that turned their butts into a heavenly choir of poots and toots.

“rooty-toot-toot”

One week, the bulimic butt singers didn’t show up for class. Then, the next week, they were absent, too. I inquired about their absence and the instructor told me that neither had renewed their kickboxing fees. So, I quit, too.

Hmmm…..maybe, I’ll have TPSkipper check for squealy participants in her class. If she reports that there are some in attendance, I might just join! Afterall, I do still have my gloves.

Hi Friends and Fellow Bloggers!

I haven’t been around much lately. It seems that I am infected from head to butt. I’ve been feeling crappy lately. I finally went to an Urgent Care Clinic to get the scoop on the poop (which has been a lot).

I’m apparently eaten up with infection in almost every hole, pouch, and pocket in my body.

Here’s the list….

I’ve got bronchitis…AGAIN!

I’ve got an infected tooth. Still waiting for the referral from my dentist to a periodontist.

Last but not least….I have Diverticulitis  which .is swelling (inflammation) of an abnormal pouch
(diverticulum) in the intestinal wall.

I’m taking 2 antibiotics, cough syrup, and using an inhaler. I’m a mess. And, I have so many things that I need to do. If you pray, say one for me.

I have no energy so once again, I am taking the easy way out and posting a youtube video about Christmas. It’s not sleek and professional but has a great message about Christmas. I hope you will take time to listen to it.

As for me….back to laying on the sofa that close to the bathroom.

Hopefully, I’ll be back to normal by Christmas!

I need one. I think the cobwebs are finally taking over in my gray matter. I can’t seem to get busy on writing or anything else for that matter.

There were 19 big-ass turkeys in my front field this morning. You think that I could come up with something to write about them. Maybe, later.

So, I’m taking the wuss way out again and posting something that I got in my email.

Monday was TPKen’s birthday. Every year, it gets harder and harder to come up with a birthday gift for him. He’s one of those guys that goes out and buys whatever he needs or WANTS for himself. I’ve always thought that this was a selfish thing for people to do. When they know that their birthday, Christmas, etc. is fast approaching and they already have bought themselves what they want when they want it. It leaves family and friends out in the cold scratching their heads to come up with a gift idea.

So, this year, I decided that I was just not going to worry about it. He has done this for our entire marriage.

Monday evening I ran out and bought him some Levi’s, a book, and some candy.

He needed new jeans.

He didn’t like the book. How convenient it was for me that it was one that I had been wanting to read. “snicker”

He didn’t like the candy. Can you believe it that it just happened to be one of my favorites. “snicker snicker”

I’m on to something here. I can’t wait for Christmas!!!!

Thursday, I went for my yearly boobogram. Ugh! Although, this one wasn’t too awful. Last year, the woman squeezed by boobs so hard that I actually had tears running down my face. Women will know what I am talking about when I say that she managed to get that loose skin right between your boob and your armpit clamped down between the glasses. I think she may have been a dominatrix in her spare time. Only the leather outfit and whip were missing. Painful, to say the least. This year, I tried some redneck marathon boobogram training and I think it helped.

This picture, also, reminds me of one of my Mother’s favorite sayings, “I ain’t laughed so hard so my Mom got her tit caught in the washing machine.” Kinda sad that younger people won’t have a clue what that means. People under 45 or so have most likely never seen a wringer washing machine and sure the heck have never used one.

I did this one every day for the last 3 weeks, too….. It toughened up my boobs really good!

I heard on the news that “Shaft” aka Richard Roundtree  fought and won a battle with breast cancer. But then, he always was a “bad mother…shut your mouth!” Hopefully, this will make men not be afraid of not being macho if they go and have a breast exam. Listen, guys, if Shaft can get breast cancer, anybody can.

(10-28-09 editing to add….saw on the news this morning that the drummer from Kiss, Peter Criss, also, fought breast cancer.)

H1N1 (swine flu) really hit home at the  place. About half of the people were wearing mask and the first questions that the registration lady asked me was if I had been around anybody with swine flu. I was surprised and pleased to see the precautions being taken. Some illiterate white trash around here think that “Purell” is something that your wife/husband/kids put you through on a daily basis….”pure ‘ell”. The swine flu vaccine is not available to the general public here. Well, I think it’s not available in many places.

Anyway……Ichecked in and was told to go sit in the waiting room and someone would call my name and register me. The waiting room only  had about 5 people in it. Three were wearing masks and looking at the two of us that didn’t have a mask on with disgust in their eyes. Maybe, their whole faces looked disgusted but all I could see was thier eyes. I noticed that they sat as far away from me and the other woman as possible. I don’t blame them really. Lots of people are becoming really paranoid about the H1N1 virus. So, in order to put them as ease, I decided to go and hunt down a mask but my name was called before I could  find one.   lead down the hall to the X-Ray department to another waiting room.

I had to go pee really bad. I was afraid they’d call me if I went. But, finally, I just had to go!  I went down the hall in search of a rest room. I spotted 2 and went to the first one. Someone was in that one. I went to the next one and somebody was in that one. So, I went back to the first (since it was closest to the x-ray dept. and waited). Noises began coming from behind the locked door. It was a sound of something bumping the door. BUMP! BUMP! BUMP!  By then, I really had to pee. Serious urination time! Just as I was getting ready to hunt down a third bathroom, the door behind #1 opened a couple of inches. I could see a man in a wheel chair was stuck in there. He was cursing a blue streak, using words that my Mama would wash out my mouth with soap for saying. I started to walk off with the urging of the little devil on my right shoulder. But, the little angel on my right shoulder was telling me to help him. I’ve always had a soft spot for elderly people. I looked around for hospital staff to help him but saw no one. So, I figured that I’d do my good deed for the day and rescue him. I went to the door and told him to try to move away from the door a few inches so that I could come in and  help him. I squeezed myself in the bathroom with him and his wheel chair. Now, folks, this was one of those one-holers (a bathroom with one commode) and was rather small. The man, his wheelchair, and myself were really crammed in that little rest room. I told him to put his feet up so that I could move his chair around but soon realized that he couldn’t move his feet by himself. So, being the good Samaritan, I bent down to lift his foot up on the foot rest. And, then the other foot. On the second foot, I realized that the man had no pants on. He only had a sheet spread across his lap. This presented his bare ass just inches from my face. That’s the closest that I’ve ever been to an old man’s ass and I did not relish it.

So, picture this….here we were….me turning the old man (and his nekkid ass) in his wheel chair inch by inch until I finally got him turned around facing the door. All the while, he is cussing and complaining. I believe that he thought that I worked there. Then I had to roll the wheelchair back as far as I could (which was just about a foot) in order to open the door. Meanwhile, I am wondering if they have called me for my mammogram and what am I going to do if they did and I didn’t answer. Would this put other boobs in line in front of my boobs? Would they think that I had left? Holy crapola…how do I get into these messes?????

Finally, I get the door opened and get the old man and his chair (and his nekkid ass) out of the bathroom and into the hall. And, I really have to pee so bad that I feel like I am going to burst and flood the hallway. So, I turn to go back into the bathroom when the old man starts telling me rather loudly that HE IS COLD!

“I’m cold! What’s the matter with you people? I can’t sit here and be cold! I’m cold!”…that’s what he was saying.

So, I decide to try to hold out and not pee all over the place and tell him that I will go find him a blanket. Still, no one anywhere as far as the eye could see up or down the hallway for me to get to help him.

“I have a blanket.”….he said. And,  he did…..the one spread across his lap.

What to do? I had already seen his old man ass and really did not want to see his old man pecker.

I saw that I had no choice and grabbed the blanket from his lap while trying to avert my eyes from his wrinkled (I image, didn’t see it) lil’ pal. I wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and pulled it far enough down to cover his butt. I brought the ends around to the front and told him to hold on to them. Meanwhile, he is still cussing me.

And, I can still hear him complaining as I go into the rest room and finally get to pee. It was one of those times when you have held it so long that it won’t come as first. When it did, I felt soooo much better.

I washed my hands (don’t forget to wash your hands) and peeked out the door. The old man was still sitting there. Thank goodness that I had moved him down from in front of the door. I snuck out of the bathroom as quietly as possible, not wanting to be spotted by the old codger again.

I made my way back to the X-Ray dept. and apparently, God was watching and rewarded me with my name being called just as I started to sit down.

I was soooo glad when all that was over with. I couldn’t wait to go home and just relax and try to get the picture of old dude buttocks out of my head. And, I thank God that I was able to avert seeing his wrinkled (I imagine…didn’t see!) wiener.

I pulled up to my house to a very strange and weird site. The goats were back! And, TPKen was chasing them around the house. I started to laugh and soon was laughing so hard that tears were running down my face. I got myself composed, opened my car door, and got out. This was just in time to see the goats leading TPK on an all out cartoon-type chase around the house. TPK was pissed! He ran in the house and got his gun. This worried me. Not that he would shoot a goat because he can’t hit the broadside of a barn. I was afraid that he would shoot something that would make the bullet ricochet and hit him or the windows.  He ran around to the back of the house where the goats were casually grazing on the roof of our dog house. I heard some shots and was going to find the phone to dial 9-1-1. ‘Bout that time, though, he came in the house.

“Did you shoot a goat?” I asked him (knowing full well that if he did, it was a miracle).

“No, I just shot up in the air to scare them away”, he said.

The next morning, they were back. He, thankfully, was at work. I like the goats. They are fun to watch even if they do chew up dog house roofs, hammocks, etc.

What a day in my WTWM (white trash with money) life. I’m glad that I have the ability to find humor in most things!

Who's the black private dick
That's a sex machine to all the chicks?
SHAFT!
Ya damn right! 

Who is the man that would risk his neck
For his brother man?
SHAFT!
Can you dig it? 

Who's the cat that won't cop out
When there's danger all about?
SHAFT!
Right On! 

They say this cat Shaft is a bad mother
SHUT YOUR MOUTH!
I'm talkin' 'bout Shaft.
THEN WE CAN DIG IT! 

He's a complicated man
But no one understands him but his woman
JOHN SHAFT!

My 8 yr old granddaughter got sick last week. Her Mom took her to a clinic to have her swabbed to see if it was swine flu. And, I hate to report this but it was. The next day, her little 4 yr old brother got sick and back to the clinic they went. He tested positive, too.

Deja’Vu…next day, their Dad got sick. Back to the clinic but he tested negative.

Thursday, TrailerParkMidge got sick and went to her doctor who swabbed her. Came back negative.

Last night, I got really ill. Temp of 102.3 which is really high for me because my temperature, when normal, is around 9 7.6. I’ve always run a little lower than what is considered average. My head hurt. My joints hurt.

All of the people who I have mentioned had almost identical symptoms. So, I am wandering if the swab test is accurate…2 tested positive and 3 tested negative. Were those false positives? Or false negatives?

It would seem a very strange coincidence that we all have the same symptoms but only two were treated with Tamiflu.

Tonight, I feel some better but still feel tired and have joint pain.

But, I can’t  end my post on a whiney note. So, for your enjoyment, I present…

THE SWINE FLU SONG

I sure miss the way we celebrated Halloween when I was a kid. It’s just not as much fun as it use to be . We didn’t have to worry about all the PC (politically correct) crap. White people could darken their faces and go as black people. Black people could paint there faces white and so as white people. Nobody got mad. Nobody called Al Sharpton or the KKK. It was all in good fun and no one got there panties in a wad and cried “racism!”.

As I have told ya many times before (and you’re probably sick of hearing it but it’s still my damn blog), we were really poor.Over my entire childhood, I nor my sisters or brothers ever wore a store-bought Halloween costume. Nope…we’d start planning and plotting in September to find things around the house that we could wear. I can remember us dressing in some odd things. Once, one of my brothers dressed like a tree simply by going out into the surrounding woods and grabbing up some branches and leaves. ‘Bout 15 minutes out trick or treating, he had developed a rash and had to discard his “costume” piece by piece. Then there was the time that my sister dressed up like a man. She borrowed my Dad’s long johns and when we got away from our house, she put 2 tennis balls in the crotch area along with a carrot.  I was not very old and didn’t really get it….her make-shift penis and balls. I didn’t understand why some people thought her costume was really funny and others looked disgusted or shocked when they opened their doors to us.

We didn’t have to be chaperoned by our parents or any other adults then. Unlike now, we knew all of our neighbors and we were safe wandering around till close to midnight. And, people still opened their doors at that time, too. We’d each take a pillow case and we’d usually get it at least 3/4 filled with yummy candy. No stupid apples or other healthy stuff. No sirree!

Being as poor as we were, we’d make sure that we got enough candy to last us for a month or so….and that was even after we had eaten enough to give us all bellyaches on Halloween night.

Yep…I miss those days!

But,  you still don’t have to buy those cheesy store-bought costumes if you have any imagination.

Here are some suggestions for really cool homemade costumes…

CHEAP AND EASY WHITE TRASH HALLOWEEN COSTUMES USING A BOX….

If you have a wino in your family, tell them to save you a box. If not, then go to WalMart,KMart,Kroger’s, etc. Ask for an empty box that wine came in. VOILA’……you’re a box of wine

Order pizza delivered the week of Halloween and save the box….VOILA’….you’re a pizza…..

Take a box, wrap it up, stick on a box and….VOILA’…you’re a present (just don’t drink any liquid before you go out since peeing in this thing would not be easy)…..

A few more cheap and easy ideas……

Silly Costumes in a Jiffy

Now, isn’t that easy? And, cheap!!!!

OK…It’s time to DECORATE! And, y’all know that one of my very favorite items to use for cheap and easy decorations for every holiday including Halloween is TAMPONS!

Here is a really great idea to make your house look great enough to be featured in “O” magazine or even Martha Stewart’s show….

This craft needs no instructions. Use the picture as a guideline but use your own imagination and start craftin’

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!!

I’ve been working on some new posts. I’ve got 3 or 4 started on subjects ranging from the economy to my brush with the outlaw biker gang, The Pagans . But, I’m going thru one of those “wandering mind” periods. During my “brainquakes”, I tend to be all over the place and not be able to keep to the topic. Yes, I know that some of you are saying, “You always go all over the place in your posts.”

Tis true….but sometimes, it is much worse than the normal cerebral traveling that I do. And, this is one of those times.

So, I am taking the cheat-sheet way out and posting something that I got in my email today.

Yes, again. I know! I know! I’m getting a case of the blog lazies….so sue me! All you will get it the crap that I’ve bought on clearance and at bag sales.

When my brainquake after-shocks cease, I’ll write something original. But til then…..enjoy this copied and pasted stuff that I got in my email. Hey…it was either this or more misspelled Viagra ads, Nigerian friend emails and balloon boy jokes. And, I figured that y’all seen enough of them for a while.

The Economy Is So Bad……

The economy is so bad that I got a pre-declined credit card in the mail.

It’s so bad, I ordered a burger at McDonalds and the kid behind the counter asked, “Can you afford fries with that?”

The economy is so bad that CEO’s are now playing miniature golf.

The economy is so bad if the bank returns your check marked “Insufficient Funds,” you call them and ask if they meant you or them.

The economy is so bad Hot Wheels and Matchbox stocks are trading higher than GM.

The economy is so bad McDonalds is selling the 1/4 ouncer.

The economy is so bad parents in Beverly Hills fired their nannies and learned their children’s names.

The economy is so bad a truckload of Americans was caught sneaking into Mexico.

The economy is so bad Motel Six won’t leave the light on anymore.

The economy is so bad, rapper 50 Cent had to change his name to 10 Cent.

The economy is so bad that the highest-paying job in town is jury duty.

The economy is so bad I saw a man in Costco buying one roll of toilet paper.

It’s so bad, a stripper was killed when her audience showered her with rolls of pennies while she danced.

The economy is so bad, that Martha Stewart did a show on creative uses for food stamps.

Got any more?

…..

A friend from “up north” (one of those Yanks) sent this to me. I liked it and hope that you like it, too.

Face it…if you don’t, you are not a real REDNECK…..

We have enjoyed the redneck jokes for years. It’s time to take a reflective look at the core beliefs of a culture that values home, family, country and God. If I had to stand before a dozen terrorists who threaten my life, I’d choose a half dozen or so rednecks to back me up.. Tire irons, squirrel guns and grit — that’s what rednecks are made of. I hope I am one of those. 

 Ya’ll know who ya ‘ll are so stand up right this second and holler, “Hell Yes! I’m a bona-fide redneck and PROUD of it!”

 You might be a redneck if:

It never occurred to you to be offended by the phrase, ‘One nation, under God.’

 You might be a redneck if: You’ve never protested about seeing the 10 Commandments posted in public places.

 You might be a redneck if: You still say ‘ Christmas’ instead of ‘Winter Festival.’

You might be a redneck if you bow your head when someone prays.

 You might be a redneck if you stand and place your hand over your heart when they play the National Anthem.

You might be a redneck if you treat our armed forces veterans with great respect, and always have.

 You might be a redneck if you’ve never burned an American flag, nor intend to.

 You might be a redneck if you know what you believe and you aren’t afraid to say so, no matter who is listening.

You might be a redneck if you respect your elders and raised your kids to do the same.

You might be a redneck if you’d give your last dollar to a friend.

OK…the next part is my own personal “Ya Might Be A Redneck”

Ya might be a redneck if your cleaning lady shows up with a shiner. I asked her who punched her in the eye and she said that she had gotten into a brawl with her ex-boyfriend’s new sweetie. I asked her if she had given the girlfriend a black eye to match her and she said that she not only black both of her eyes but had, also, put so many bruises on her that she will need one of those don-nut O pillows to sit on for a month.

I just love that girl. She’s a little redneck spitfire hellcat. We spent half of the time that she was here dancing to Lynard Skynard. Who says that you shouldn’t fraternize with the hired help. “S” is a lot of fun. So what if we waste half of her paid time laughing, dancing, and talking? And, TPKen comes home and says, “Didn’t “S” come to help you clean today?

BTW….I said that I wouldn’t NEVER hire someone to help me clean. But, when TPKen insisted on building “The Big House”,  I told  him that I was not going to spend my entire life cleaning. I said we could hire somebody to help out or call A&E to do a documentary on hoarding. Well, I’m not in the league of those people but there is a woman down the road who seriously could compete with any hoarder. Her yard is full of  broken concrete lawn-fawns, gnomes and grass-asses (you know…those wooden cut-outs of people bending over), Mother Mary statues with broken arms and noses, etc. She goes around the city on free garbage pick-up day (on that day, you can throw away big items like sofas and stuff) and grabs stuff. I’ve been wanting to take a picture of her house but I can’t tell when she is home or not. There certainly is no way to sneak up on her. And, she doesn’t hesitate to pull a pistol out of bra (yes, her bra) and aim. I’m not scared of many people but she is one of which I steer clear.

Back to “S”…..she has a tragic story, actually. Hooked on Oxycontin, crack, and other drugs, she hit rock bottom and is trying hard to climb back up. She lost custody of her kids but recently got them back. She cleans houses for a living and does a darn good job of it. She’s a hard worker and doesn’t mind doing anything that you ask of her. Ya know, she could be sitting on her ass like so many young women (she is 27) do around her and draw a welfare check. But, she knows that would only lead to a life of  probably getting back on drugs.

“S”’s water got cut off a few months ago. She called the water company and they said that she had run up a $600 water bill in 2 months. She told them that was impossible and asked them to check for a leak. They did and told her that the leak must be in her house somewhere and that they could not do anything. So, turned off her meter and disconnected a water pipe. “S” went to Lowe’s, bought a new pipe, and hooked it back up herself. When the meter reader was in her neighborhood , he noticed the new pipe. He went to her door and told her that she owed the water company for the water that she was using. She said, “Prove it! I don’t have a meter to read” and shut the door in his face. That girl has more balls than most men that I know! Gotta love a Redneck Woman like that!

As my blogging buddies know, I usually write humorous or strange stories about my life here. If I lack the brain energy to do that, I might post a funny video or email that I have received. Today is different. This post is semi-serious but you might get a giggle or to at some of the stuff. So, if you feel like laughing….please, do. Laughing is good for you( Even if it is at my expense).

Week before last, I was sitting on the sofa and watching Modern Family (that show is really funny). I was eating a muffin when I felt something weird happening in my mouth. I quit eating the very, soft muffin (it was a Weight Watcher muffin. Darn, those things are expensive). I removed the muffin from my mouth on mid-bite and looked at it. Holy smokes, FatMan, there was half of my tooth inserted in the muffin. What the fduck? I called my dentist office and was told that he was in his Smmersville office and I could not see him until Monday. I was told to go to WalMart and buy some dental bonding stuff. I cannot remember the name of it right now. So, off to Wally World and then back home with a tube of dental glue. I cleaned my gums and the tooth really well and applied some of the bonding. Then I stuck the tooth back in place and held it for about 3o seconds. As soon as I let go, the tooth promptly fell out again. So, thinking that I didn’t hold it long enough, I re-glued it and stuck it back in my mouth and held it for a full minute. No luck. As soon as I let go, the damn tooth fell out again. I won’t bore you with the many attempts that I made after that.

This tooth is on the front left side of my face. ALthough, the face that I am missing  a tooth  is not readily noticable, it was really bothering me. You see…..I never had any dental care until I was old enough to work and provide it for myself. As I have told y’all, my family was really poor. Actually, we were so poor that we had an extra couple of “o’s” and we were pooor. My parents could barely afford to feed 5 kids much less pay for dental stuff. The lack of dental care has played havoc on my teeth. And, I have spent tens of thousands of dollars repairing, restoring, and maintaining my teeth. One of my worse fears is ever having to wear dentures. Not that I’m knocking any dentures wearers who may be reading this. It’s just that I have put so much moolah in my mouth, I cringe when I think that it might all go down the (dental sink) drain.

As I got near the end of the tube of bonding stuff, I got an idea. Y’all know how much I love duct tape and super glue. Of course, I couldn’t use duct tape in this situation but what about some Super Glue? So, I squirted the last bit of bonding from the tube onto my tooth (which was in my hand) and then I put some Super Glue into the bonding and mixed it together. I tried that. NO LUCK! Not one to give up easily, I decided the hell with it….I’d go all the way….and I put just super glue on the tooth. I held it in place for around 45 seconds. I was in for a shock when I removed my finger. The tooth was not glued in place to the broken off still in my gum. However, it was glue to my finger.

Reading what I just wrote is getting me tickled. Thinking about the whole scene is somewhat amusing and crazy. Y’all (frequent readers….all 9 of you) know that despite the fact that I LOVE duct tape and super glue, I rarely manage to use them without incident and have a low success rate with repairs involving them. I’ve accidentally put super glue in almost every orifice of my body (above the waist line…althoug I’m not ruling that possibility out in the future. Who knows when I might have to repair an important crack?). You’d think that by now, I would have learned my lesson and banned super glue from my kitchen junk drawer.  I guess I am a slow learner.

Anyway….here I was….still had a gap in my upper teeth and now had a tooth glued to my finger. It occurred to me (briefly) that I could just stick my finger with the tooth glue on in the hole in my mouth if I had to go out in public. But, of course, that was a stupid idea. So, I set about trying to get the tooth off of my finger without damaging it. I tried all sorts of removal stuff…Goo Gone, that stuff that takes bugs off of your windshield, extremely hot water (which just produced a burned finger with a tooth on it) among other things. Finally, I did what I always have to do…..I cut it off….meaning skin…..I had to cut the tooth away from the skin.

So, at that point, I had a gap in my teeth, a burnt finger, an empty tube of bonding, and was worse off then when I started trying to fix it. And, I was panicked. One of my worst nightmares is to be toothless. 

All three of my surviving siblings have either horrible teeth or false teeth. My youngest sister just got dentures about a month ago. She is having a terrible time trying to wear them. But, when she doesn’t, she looks at least 20 years older than her age. Both of my brothers have dental problems. Actually, it’s pretty common to see toothless people around here. I just don’t want to be included in their numbers.

I waited until Monday and called to get an appt. I couldn’t get one until Wednesday. I went in and had my teeth cleaned since it was time for it anyway. Then the dentist came in. He took a look at my tooth and said, “Sorry, there is nothing that I can do for that tooth except extract the rest of it”. WHAAAAT? OH NO!!!!!! But, I gathered my senses and asked him how we could replace it and he gave me 3 options. ….a bridge, a partial, or an implant. I chose implant. He told me that would have to wait several months to heal before he could do the implant. Although, I did not like that, I had accepted the fact that I would not have a tooth in that spot for a while. Besides, it wasn’t that bad. The hole was  only really evident if I smiled as big as an alligator. And, if it did become embarrassing, I figured that I could go and get one of these.They are cheap and can be purchased at any Spencer’s. 

BUT, that is when things took a turn for the worse. From here on thru the rest of the post, there is not one damn thing funny.

The dentist was taking an unusally long amount of time looking at my x-rays and making notes. I was getting nervous. As I have said before, I am a total dental wimp. I chalk that up to no preventive dental care when I was young which resulted in MAJOR painful work when I got older.

Then he informed me that I have …….Osteonecrosis of the Jaw. This condition is hard to describe so click on the link if you want more info. Osteonecrosis in a nutshell mean that your teeth are probably going to fall out. This news was devastating to me. I have been upset and depressed about this since last Wednesday. One cause of this condition is taking Actonel or Fosamax….medications used for the treatment of osteoporosis. I have been taking Actonel or Fosamx for the better part of 15 years.

AND, I AM PISSED….REALLY PISSED!!!!!!

Two doctor’s, one a so-called expert in arthritis and bones, and one was my gynecologist. Also, the dentist has it on my med records that I was on Actonel.

The internet is full of stories of people who have this problem. And, it’s full of stories of LAW SUITS.

My question is….why didn’t at least one of these people in the medical/dental field warn me about Fosamax and Actenol. FYI…Boniva (touted by perky Sally Fields) also, causes this.

I’ve got to wait until I’m facing the possibility of loosing most, if not all, of my teeth before I am told about this?

I’m not the sort of person who thinks lawsuit over every injustice done to me. But, in this case, I’m seriously considering it.

If anyone reading this has

1.Osteonecrosis of the Jaw

2.Knows somebody who has osteonecrosis of the jaw or suspects it

3. Is taking Actenol or Fosamax at present or have in the past

I would really appreciate your input and comments. Although, I can usually find humor in just about anything (see first part of blog and superglue accident), this is NOT FUNNY AT ALL.

Also, if any of you have had or known someone who has had treatment for this…..PLEASE COMMENT ABOUT IT. I’m desperate here.

Today’s Shitcake awards go to Dr. **cky, Dr. K**lid, and the drug companies.

I’m writing this to let my blogging friends know that contrary to rumor, (and some people’s wishes) I’m not dead. Well…not totally. Just brain dead. And busy.

I’ve got to get my act together and write about something original. Or, I’m going to get a reputation for copying and pasting crap all the time.

For some reason, last nite, I dreamed about this crazy idea for a Halloween costume that I made TPSkipper one year. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

I made her a “shower around her” outfit. I took a hula-hoop and attached a fake (aluminum foil and hangar) shower head to it. Then I hung a shower curtain on it. It was really cute.

She went off to a Halloween party dressed in her shower outfit. I was rather proud of my artistic endeavor. However, when she came home from the party, she said that she had to take it off soon after she got to the party. It seems that I had not taken into account that she couldn’t sit down, play games, or even really talk to anyone with that thing on. My ingenious idea turned out to be a bad idea.

The best laid plans of mice and moms.

Help!!! I’ve fallen and can’t get up……..

at least it seems that way. I’ve not been worth a bucket of warm turds lately. I just can’t seem to get going.

Somebody….HELP! Send me a case of Red Bull! Or, one of these buttons…..

Maybe, I just need a swift kick in the ass. I’m sure there are volunteers out there who would be willing to do that.

I feel like I’m in a state of suspension or as my Mama would say….I’ve got a case of the “droops”.

Off to the dentist. Maybe, the pain will wake me up. Or, hopefully, I’ll find something to inspire me to write about.

I’ve had a leaky brain crack or something along that order lately. Thoughts gather in my head and lead out before I can write them down. So, today, I am posting Observations on Growing Older….a friend sent this to me. I added a few one-liners that are suppose to be jokes but I swear….everyone is true. Hope you get a laugh out of it. And, please, if you have any to add, don’t hestitate to do so.

Hopefully, I’ll get the crack in my brain fixed up with some super-glue or silly putty soon. I’ve got lots to write about but my mind is going in 10 directions at once. This last few weeks have been hopping with activity at the trailerpark. Hopefully, I’ll be able to organize my thoughts and tell ya about it soon.

Observations on Growing Older —

~It’s harder to tell navy from black!

~Everything old is new again, but if you wore it before, you’re too old to wear it the 2nd time around! ~

Your kids are becoming you…and you don’t like them! 

 ~Yellow becomes the big color…walls…hair…teeth!

 ~Going out is good. Coming home is better!

 ~When people say you look “Great”…they add “for your age”!

~When you needed the discount you paid full price. Now you get discounts on everything…movies, hotels …flights.

 ~You forget names…but it’s OK because other people forgot they even knew you.

`~The last 2 outfits you wore had spots on them.

~You ask your husband or friend how your outfit looks and they tell you the truth!

 ~The five pounds you wanted to lose is now 15 and you have a better chance of losing your keys than the 15 pounds.

  ~The things you cared to do,you don’t care to do,but you care that you don’t care to do them anymore.

~Your husband sleeps better on a lounge chair with the TV blaring then he does in bed. It’s called his “pre-sleep”

~Remember when your mother said “Wear clean underwear in case you GET in an accident”? Now you bring clean underwear in case you HAVE an accident!

  ~The best place to have a conversation with your husband is in the bathroom…you have his full attention.

(There are three signs of old age. The first is your loss of memory. I forget the other two.}

~ `Who wants to wear 3″ heels anyway? `

~You miss the days when everything worked with just an “ON” and “OFF” switch

 ~You use more 4 letter words…”what?”…”when?” ???

(It’s hard to be nostalgic when you can’t remember anything)

 ~Now that you can afford expensive jewelry, it’s not safe to wear it anywhere.

(Young at heart. Slightly older in other places.)

 ~Your husband has a night out with the guys but he’s home by 9:00 P.M…next week it will be 8:30 P.M.

~ You read 100 pages into a book before you realize you’ve read it.

(One good thing about Alzheimers is you get to meet new people every day)

~Many of the people in People Magazine you’ve never heard of.

~Your concealer doesn’t conceal. ~Your lipstick bleeds. ~Your mascara clumps and your eyebrows are disappearing.

~You don’t have hair under your arms and very little on your legs but your chin needs to be plucked daily!

(The face is familiar but I can’t quite remember my name.)

 ~What used to be freckles are now liver spots.

 ~Everybody whispers.

 ~Now that your husband has retired …you’d give anything if he’d find a job! ~`You have 3 sizes of clothes in your closet….2 of which you will never wear.

You’re only young once, but you can be immature forever!!!!!!

A friend emailed this to me. I thought that I would share it……..

SENIOR DRESS CODE Many of us ‘Old Folks’ ( WAY over 50) are quite confused today about how we should present ourselves. Feeling ‘young’ , we try to conform to current fashions and present a youthful image. Contrary to what you may have seen on the streets, the following combinations DO NOT go together and should be avoided:

 1. A nose ring and bifocals

 2. Spiked hair and bald spots

3.. A pierced tongue and dentures

 4. Miniskirts and support hose

 5. Ankle bracelets and corn pads

 6. Speedos and cellulite

7. A belly button ring and a gall bladder surgery scar

 8. Unbuttoned disco shirts and a heart monitor

 9. Midriff shirts and a midriff bulge

10. Bikinis and liver spots

11. Mini skirts and varicose veins

And, Most importantly At some point you have to give up the ‘DAISY DUKE’ shorts

Seriously, a few years back, TPKen and I were at the Charlotte Motor-Speedway. I saw a woman about the age of the one in the pic wearing shorts very much like the ones in the pic. She had a horrible case of cellulite and had some ready-to-pop red pimples on her ass cheeks. It was very disturbing…..and funny.

A baby weighing over 19 pounds was born in Indonesia.

I only have one word to say……………OW!

Nothing need be said…..just watch the video…..

“note….I posted this at my other blog….Bipolar Chicks Blogging. I don’t like reposting from one blog to the other but wanted to share this with some of you. I didn’t post the whole thing here. But, I put the link to the other blog in if you liked to read the whole thing” TPB

A visit to a doctor’s office is always a good way to observe people and learn.

I had an appt. on Thursday at 1:30. This is a regular good ol’ GP who sees anybody for anything. My Phys. Assist. at my old pdoc’s office got me in with her. She’s very popular. Proof of that is the 1 1/2 hours that I had to sit in the waiting room.

Usually, I take a book along to read but this day, I forgot it on the kitchen table. Not in the mood for conversation, I sat and listened to other people talk. Soon, I found myself jumping in on the talk.

One guy told a really sad story about how his wife got hooked on prescription meds when his young son had died. A pdoc prescribed her several different emotion-numbing meds to get her through her grief. Soon, he said that she had become addicted. She would go through her month’s supply and than hit the streets to buy more. Poor guy said that he had lost his home, his car, and all of his savings to the insatiable appetite that she had for the drugs. He said that she weighed 140 lbs when their son died and was now down to 79 pounds. He had sought treatment for her from several venues but so far, had no luck in helping her kick the monkey on her back. So sad…….

One lady told a story about a local pdoc who is known in this area for his generosity in prescribing drugs. He and 3  other staff members at his office would see around 150 patients a day. That’s around 40 each.  Forty patients in eight hours….you do the math. Spending just enough time with each patient to “treat ‘em and street ‘em”…..handing out prescriptions like  Halloween candy. She said that as soon as you left his office, you’d be approach by people in the parking lot saying, “What did they give you? Do you want to trade it for what I have? Or, do you want to sell it?” Crying shame….pdoc parking lot transformed into a drug dealer’s paradise.

After the few people that I was talking to got called back into the doc’s office, I was sitting there reading the signs on the walls. You know….how to tell if a mole is cancerous, why it’s better to breast feed your baby, the importance of exercise in seeking wellness, etc.

Suddenly, I heard a garbled voice say, “Hey, you know anybody who wants to spend time with me?” The voice was coming from over my shoulder and I turned to see who was being addressed. It was me that the lady was talking to. Now, don’t get your panties in a wad and call me insensitive or politically incorrect…but….the lady had one of the illnesses/diseases that makes one talk in a halting manner and like you have your mouth full of marbles or something. I am not poking fun at her. I just want you to get the picture. 

“on my soap box”

I hesitate to use the word “retarded” because I know I’ll get somebody on their high horse giving me a lecture about using the word. Just like the word “midget”. We are no longer allowed to use that word. What’s wrong with using words that describe somebody? It’s stupid to have to think of a whole prhase to describe something when one word gives you the exact picture. I turned around and looked over the half-wall separating the waiting room into two halves. There was a dark haired lady wearing glasses peering over the wall at me.

“steps off soapbox”

“Excuse me?” I said.

Now remember, she was very hard to understand.

“Do you know anybody who wants a job driving me around? It would be on Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday.  It pays $7.40 an hour.But, not Wednesday.”

This came out soundling like “Dyou know eeny buddy wants a job dwiving me awound. It would be on Money, Toosedee, Fursday, and Fwyday. But, no Wensdee”.

I stilled wasn’t sure what she was trying to say. As I said, she was hard to understand and what I am typing that she said is my best guess. Also, I got the impression that she thought seven dollars and forty cents was really high pay for driving her around.

As politely as I could, I said, “No, I do not know of anyone.” And, went back to reading about the results of chewing tobacco over a life time. There were some really ugly pictures in the brochure. I was fascinated by a picture of a young guy with half of his face gone as a result of smokeless tobacco aka dip, snuff when I heard this…..

“You’d need a dwirvers license, insurwance, no smoking, no swinking, and a back-up check”.

A BACK-UP CHECK???? WTF is a …..oh….then, it hit me that she meant a “background……

Read rest of the story at  BipolarChicksBlogging.

Those of you who have been around here for a while know that I am always doing something that I believe will improve my appearance.  And, that most always encompasses the latest/greatest procedure that doesn’t involve actual plastic surgery. I have…

1. Had my skin on my face peeled off with lasers.

2. Had my skin on my face melted off with chemicals.

3. Had my eyelids….upper and lower…tatooed (which didn’t last).

4. Had my eyebrows tattooed (which didn’t last)

5.Had some fillers shot into my chin which left me looking like Jay Leno for a few days.

About 2 weeks ago, I went to the derma office and got Restalyn, Pearline, and Botox injections. It was my anniversary gift to myself. Now, y’all remember what I have said before about TPKen and his extravagant impulse buying. I use to get pissed off when he blew through a wad of money. Now, I relish it because I use it to justify something extravagant for myself. This derm visit was one of those times. He had spent a crap-load of money on something stupid so it was my turn! Ha!

After the fillers, I looked like a cross betweenDudley Dooright and Jay Leno       .

 You could have used my chin as a coffee table. Thank goodness, the swelling went down in about 24 hours or so.

This crap gets expensive. So, when my lovely dermatologist asked me if I wanted to be her “subject” for a training session, I didn’t even pause to ask her what she was going to do to me. All that I knew was that I would be receiving FREE FILLER in my face.

Today was the appointed time for the training session and I had to be at the derma office by 9:00 am. I was so determined to be there on time and not miss out that I hardly slept at all last night.

I arrived at the office which was closed for the day for training sessions to take place. The office is a big-ass building with lots of corridors and halls. The waiting room is usually packed with people that have big hairy moles to be removed or covered in all visible areas with rashes and bumps or, patients scattered here and there that are cosmetic procedure patients.

 In our boogerwoods area, it takes a little longer to get the newest stuff than people in big cities like New York. But, there is no shortage of women and men ready and willing to do whatever it takes to make them look younger/better. There is more money floating around in these hills than people think. We who live in WV are still portrayed as toothless, barefooted hicks who intermarry. But, nothing could be farther from the truth. We are actually toothless, barefoot hillbillies with perfect flawless skin.

 Just kidding.  Seriously, though, our Jed Clampett and Granny image has gone by the wayside for the most part. Sure there are still plenty of  “hollers” and old coal camps populated with people who like their laid back hillbilly lives. And, rest assured, that we have more than our share of generational welfare families who do nothing to improve their lives. An interesting fact is that in my area, there are lots of “Yankee furners” (aka Yankie foreigners) who have left the fast paced, stress filled life in big cities to live in WV.

Sorry, my ADD is in full swing today. I got off-track and will now return to the original post subject which is ME.

I signed in with the receptionist and wandered around the humongous waiting room looking for some magazines.  I think that you can tell a lot about a doctor by the magazines in the waiting room. My regular all-around physician has magazines in her office from 1999.  The only new ones that ever show up there are ones with the addresses torn off that people have brought in with them. And, there are lots of Avon catalogs.  From this, I gather that she is not the owner of the practice but an employee of some corporation or conglomerate. She comes in, does her job and goes home. The waiting room reading material is not her concern.

On the other hand, the derma office is full of recent issues of a variety of magazines. This tells me that the head derma doc (who is the owner) takes steps to make his waiting patients comfortable and entertained. This derma doc had just recently moved into the building which is huge…..lined with many halls and corridors that remind me of a maze.

In just a few short minutes, the nurse called me back….waaaay back….to a part of the building that I had never seen. Scenes from Dr. Frankenstein ran thru my head. Was I being escorted to the research lab? Was I going to come  face to face with 2-headed monkeys banging against cage walls? Or, lizards with human heads? Maybe, a lab rat with collage filled cheeks?

 I was relieved when I entered the room and saw a regular exam chair.

Soon, Tanya (the derma doc) came in accompanied by a nurse and 2 other women in lab coats. She introduced me to them. One was another derma doc, one was a nurse, and one was a rep of a big drug company that produced cosmetic drugs.

The rep really impressed me when she started talking about what she was going to do to me. It was going to be getting shots with some fillers in my cheeks and around my mouth.

Oh hell’s bells….the goats are back. That has nothing to do with this post but they scared the crap out of me. Two of them were up on my window sill. I don’t even know how they could stand on it. Here’s pictures……

This is just a few of them. There are about a dozen right outside my window where I am typing.

Sorry….I told y’all that my ADD is in full gear today. The goat thing was like a “looky, a chicken” distraction. Some days are like that from the time I get up until the time I go to bed. My mind is all over the place.

On with the show……..the derma rep and the derma doc (and onlookers) stood back from me and would tell me to move my chin up, or down, move my head slightly to the left or right, smile or frown. Then the rep took a pink marker and began marking areas of my face that she thought the filler would do the most good. The fun started…….needles shot in various areas of my face. Two needles in the cheek areas. Then, there was a debate about where to put more filler. I personally wanted filler between my eyes to fill in the furrow that I had developed over the years frowning at my kids. I ,also, tend to furrow my brows when I am thinking intently. I’ve tried to break the habit and gone so far as to put tape on the furrow to alert me when I was doing it. Of course, that didn’t work. It just left sticky tape marks that I had to scrub away. Tanya had already shot some botox in that area a few weeks before this. My next area that I wanted filled was around my mouth….you kow those mannequin folds/lines that we developed over time. The doc and rep agreed that the lines were perfect candidates for filling. So, Tanya shot that area about 4 times on each side.

The results were immediate and surprising. I had a picture taken the first time that I was there for my “before” pic. Then they took a new pic and compared them. WOW! I could really see a difference. I only wish that I had asked them to take 2 of each pic so that I could have them to post here.

After 2 hours, I was finished. It wasn’t 2 hours of shots.There was lots of conversation, too. Afterall, this was a training session.

Tanya told me to be sure and keep ice packs on the swollen areas until they went down. However, I had to stop by WalMart to get a few groceries since our family reunion is today and I had nothing to take. In hindsight, I know that I should have gone home and put ice packs on and gone later to the grocery store. It may have prevented me from looking like Alvin the Chipmunk.

This time, the rep showed Tanya a different way to do my chin so I didn’t have the Leno look. But, apparently, she thought that I needed more cheeks because when I looked in the mirror, I had that lovely cheeks-full-of-chewing-tobacco look. I felt like singing the Chipmunk song about Christmas.

I know that the swelling will go down. However, it has been 24 hours and it doesn’t show any sign of going down yet. And, today is our family reunion day! And, TPSkipper is, also, going to be singing at the Summersville Grape Festival/Kirkwood Wine Festival. The festival is a pretty big shin-dig. Lots of people come to stomp around in the grapes. There are bins of grapes set out that anyone can stomp if they want. I think that I am going to give it a try.

Anyway, I am hoping that the chipmunk look will go away at least a little bit before I have to leave for the reunion and the grape festival.

When I was little, I had round plump cheeks. My mom said that when I was a baby, she took me to the doctor for something (don’t remember what) and the doc mistakenly thought that I had the mumps because my cheeks were so fat……kinda like this baby….

So, now I’m off to go get ready. I’m hoping that I can do some make-up magic. If not, I need to be thinking of a reasonable explanation for these huge jowls. I welcome any suggestions about how to explain my Alvin look.